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From /lisWitt in tfie Brfvgatire Office, 



I 

From his Will in. the Consistory Court at Canterbury. 




Engmvcd by CHtath . 



LONDON: 

Published'hy John Major Fleet Street , 
l^.Tulv. 1825. 



THE 

LIVES 

OF 

DR. JOHN DONNE, SIR HENRY WOTTON, 

MR. RICHARD HOOKER, 

MR. GEORGE HERBERT, 

AND 

DR. ROBERT SANDERSON: 
BY IZAAK WALTON. 

TO WHICH ARE ADDED, 

THE AUTOGRAPHS OF THOSE EMINENT MEN, 

NOW FIRST COLLECTED J 

AN INDEX, AND ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES. 




These were Honourable Men in their Generationi. Ecclus. xliv. 7. 

LONDON: 

JOHN MAJOR, FLEET-STREET, 

ADJOINING SERJEANTS'-INN. 

MDCCCXXV. 




5#i 1 

'vi,' 



" There are no colours in the fairest sky, 
So fair as these ; the feather whence the pen 
Was shaped, that traced the Lives of these good men? 
JDropt from an angel's wing : with moistened eye, 
We read of faith, and purest charity, 
In statesman, priest, and humble citizen. 
Oh ! could we copy their mild virtues then, 
What joy to live, what happiness to die ! 
Methinks their very names shine still and bright, 
Satellites turning in a lucid ring, 
Around meek Walton's heavenly memory !" 

Wordsworth. 






Printed at the Shakspeare Press, by W. Nicol, 
Cleveland-Row, St. James's. 







PREFACE. 



The motives and feelings whieh have influenced the 
publisher of the present work, being precisely similar 
to those which gave birth to its precursor, the recent edi- 
tion cf the " Complete Angler," he begs to refer the 
Reader to the Introductory pages of that volume, in pre- 
ference to craving his attention, for more than a moment, 
from the inimitable language of Walton. A single re- 
mark may suffice. Whilst the " Angler" has been too 
commonly supposed interesting to anglers only, the 
"Lives" have been as falsely appropriated to the de- 
lights of the mere antiquarian reader. A proper degree 
of public spirit appears to have been alone wanting to 
prove that the two works possess the seeds of popularity 
in an equal degree ; and that, singular as the fact may 
appear, they mutually illustrate and explain each other. 
Alike irresistible in the excellence of their tendencies, the 
one might be characterised as the Ritual of the Fields ! the 
other the ' ' Book of the Church /" 

In these delightful compositions — remarkable for their 
veracity, yet teeming with incidents which might be en- 
vied even by the writer of Romance — abounding with 



iv PREFACE. 

important historical facts not elsewhere related— yet here 
related in language unrivalled at once for sweetness and 
for power! — in these delightful Lives, we can alone dis- 
cover those peculiar habitudes of their author, by which 
he was enabled to render his piscatorial work a general 
favorite, independently of all attachment to the art itself, 
and even in many instances of total aversion! — In the 
Complete Angler his extreme beauty of style seems to 
impart new charms to the universal face of Nature ; 
whilst in his Lives, Philology and History are but as the 
handmaids to Morality and Religion ! 

Good books appear to be the natural caskets wherein 
to deposit those " Gems of Art" which at once illustrate 
and are illustrated by the association:* and never did 
there exist a fitter repository than the ensuing pages, for 
that mass of talent here collected and dedicated to " set 
the Author's memory on fire I" May this delightful man 
only be known according to his worth ! — May the " Bro- 
thers of the Angle" be also " Fishers of Men I" and the 
inestimable works of the Benevolent Walton, " find 
or make all readers like him I" 
May 1st, 1825. J. M. 

* To have been instrumental in extending the circulation 
and usefulness of such a writer as Walton, is of itself an un- 
speakable gratification ; but a still prouder result is aboutto 
attend the publisher's zealous labours. The London Walton 
and Cotton Club, " adopting the idea suggested in his Intro- 
ductory Essay" (p. 47, edit. 1823— p. 29, edit. 1824,) " have 
resolved on erecting a Monument in Winchester Cathedral, to 
the mem 017 of Honest Izaah " and steps are now taking by 
that spirited Society for carrying the design into effect. 



y 

DESCRIPTIVE LIST 

OF 

THE EMBELLISHMENTS 

CONTAINED IN 

j. major's edition of izaak walton's lives. 

mdcccxxv. 

WOOD-CUTS. 



1. Page iii. Preface, Head- piece: Portraits and Arms of 

Dr. Alexander Nowell, Dean of St, Paul's ; Dr. 
William W T hittaker ; and the Rev. William Perkins, 
three eminent Divines and Anglers, mentioned in Wal- 
ton's Complete Angler, Chap. I. Drawn by W. H. 
Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

2. Page xvi. List of Embellishments, Tail-piece : Emblems 

of Painting, including the Youthful Portrait of Dr. 
Donne, mentioned at page 73, of the ensuing Life. 
Drawn from the Original Engraving by W. H. Brooke : 
Engraved by H. White. 

3. Page xvii. Walton's Original Dedication, Head-piece : 

Miniature Portrait of Dr. George Morley, Bishop of 
Winchester, surrounded by a star, ribband, and badge, 
as Prelate of the Order of the Garter. Drawn by R. 
Thomson : Engraved by H. White. 

4. Page xix. Life of Dr. John Donne, Device in the Title- 

page : South entrance to St. Paul's Cathedral before 
the Fire of London, being the gate immediately leading 
to Dr. Donne's Monument ; surrounded by a wreath 
of those " curious and costly flowers," with which his 



vi DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 

grave was adorned for some days after his interment : 
vide the ensuing Life, page 77. Drawn by W. H. 
Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

5. Page 2. Life of Dr. John Donne. Introduction, Tail- 

piece : Armorial Ensigns of the three learned Societies 
of which Dr. Donne was a Member ; namely, Hart- 
Hall, Oxford ; Trinity College, Cambridge ; and Lin- 
coln's Inn, London : vide the ensuing Life, pages 4,5. 
Drawn by R. Thomson : Engraved by the late W. 
Hughes. 

6. Page 3. Head-piece : View 

of Losely Hall, in the County of Surrey, the Seat of 
Sir George More, the Father-in-law of Dr. Donne, to 
which he removed his daughter, previously to her 
private marriage : vide the ensuing Life, page 8. 
Drawn and Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

7. i ■ ■ Initial Letter M. : 

Armorial Ensigns of the Deanery of St. Paul's Cathe- 
dral, and the families of Donne and More. Drawn by 
R. Thomson : Engraved by the late W. Hughes. 

8. Page 14. Portrait and Arms 

of Dr. Thomas Morton, Bishop of Durham. Drawn 
by R. Thomson : Engraved by T. Mosses. 

9. Page 31. Interior View of the 

Great Gallery at Theobald's Palace, Hertfordshire. 
Drawn and Engraved by G. W. Bonner, from a scarce 
print in the possession of the Publisher, copied from 
an Original Painting, supposed by Steenwyck, pre- 
served at Hinton St. George, the seat of the Right 
Honourable the Earl Poulett, in the County of Somer- 
set. The figures in this view are Portraits copied 
from Vandyke; the Nobleman with the wand is 
William Herbert, Earl of Montgomery; by whom 
stand the Queen Henrietta Maria, and King Charles I. 
The head of Philip Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, is seen 
through the doorway ; and on the left appears Geoffrey 



THE EMBELLISHMENTS. vii 

Hudson, the Queen's Dwarf: vide Gough's British 
Topography, Vol. I. page 426. Walpole's Anecdotes 
of Painting, Vol. II. pp. 176, 177. 

10. Page 42. Life of Dr. John Donnr. Portrait and Arms 

of Elizabeth, Princess Palatine, and Queen of Bohemia; 
from " A Collection of Royal Letters " by Sir George 
Bromley, Bart. Lond. 1787, 8vo. page x. Above the 
portrait is a representation of that Mourning Ring 
containing the hair of King Charles I., which the Queen 
wore in commemoration of his Martyrdom : vide the 
preceding work, page xxxi. Drawn by R. Thomson : 
Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

11. Page 60. ■ Representation of 

the Obverse of Dr. Donne's Golden Medal, struck to 
commemorate the sitting of the Synod of Dortin 1619. 
Drawn by R. Thomson, from Gerard Van Loon's 
" Histoire Metallique des xvn Provinces des Pays 
Bas." Hague, 1732-37, fol. Vol. II. page 105 : Engraved 
by the late W. Hughes. 

12. Page 86. Tail-piece : Nor- 

thern View of the Cathedral Church of St. Paul, Lon- 
don ; as it appeared when Dr. Donne was made Dean : 
vide the ensuing Life, page 43. Drawn from an 
ancient print by W. Harvey : Engraved by H. White. 

13. Page 87. Life of Sir Henry Wotton. Device in the 

Title-page : Armorial Ensigns, and principal entrance 
to Eton College, Buckinghamshire, of which Sir Henry 
was made Provost: vide page 132; surrounded by a 
wreath of Lilies, the badge of the Institution. Drawn 
by W. Harvey : Engraved by T. Mosses. 

14. Page 89. Head-piece : North-west View of part of the 

ancient Hall and Church of Bocton Malherbe, near 
Charing, Kent ; formerly the Family Seat of the Wot- 
tons. From a Drawing made on the spot expressly 
for this work, by J. P. Neale, Copied and Engraved by 
G. W. Bonner. 



viii DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 

15. Page 89. Life of Sir Henry Wotton. Initial Letter 

S. Armorial Ensigns of Sir Henry Wotton. Drawn 
by R Thomson : Engraved by T. Mosses. 

16. Page 99. ■ — Portrait and 

Arms of the Very Reverend Nicholas Wotton, some- 
time Dean of York and Canterbury Cathedrals ; some 
circumstances of whose life are mentioned and nar- 
rated on pages 93 and 99. Drawn by W. H. Brooke, 
from his beautiful monumental effigy in Becket's 
Chapel, in Canterbury Cathedral, erected by his Nephew 
Thomas Wotton, Esq. referred to onpage 104, and en- 
graven in Dart's " Accurate Description and History of 
the Churches of Canterbury and York." Lond. 1755, 
Fol. Plate 54. Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

17. Page 114. ■ — — — View of the 

Rialto and City of Venice, to which Sir Henry Wotton 
was thrice sent Ambassador. Drawn from an Ancient 
Print by J. Findley : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

18. Page 130. — Portrait and 

Arms of Sir Julius Csesar, Master of the Rolls to King 
James I., from the rare Print by Reginald Elstracke. 
Drawn by W. H. Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

19. Page 160. — — - — Tail-piece: 

View of the Eastern end of Eton College, Bucking- 
hamshire, at which Sir Henry Wotton died. Drawn by 
J. P. Neale : Engraved by T. Mosses. 

20. Page 161. Life of Mr. Richard Hooker, Master of 

the Temple, from 1585 to 1591. Device in the Title- 
page : Northern View of the Middle Temple Hall, sur- 
rounded by a Wreath of the York and Lancastrian 
Roses ; supposed to have been first plucked in the 
Temple Gardens. Drawn by J. Findley : Engraved by 
G. W. Bonner. 

21. Page 164. « — Introduc- 

tion, Tail-piece : Armorial Ensigns of Corpus Christi 
College, Oxford, at which Mr. Hooker was educated ; 



THE EMBELLISHMENTS. ix 

and of Archbishop Usher, George Cranmer, Dr. Spen- 
cer, and John Hales, of Eton, who are stated in the 
Introduction to have furnished the materials of the 
Memoir. Drawn by R. Thomson i Engraved by H. 
White. 

22. Page 165. Life of Mr. Richard Hooker. Head-piece: 

View of the Church and Parsonage of Drayton- Beau- 
champ, in Buckinghamshire ; to which Hooker was 
presented in 1584. Vide page 187. Drawn on the 
spot expressly for this work, by R. T. Bone : En- 
graved by H. White. 

23. Initial 

Letter I ; Armorial Ensigns of the Temple, and 
the families of Hooker and Churchman. Drawn 
by R. Thomson : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

24. Page 170. ■ Portrait 

and Arms of Dr. John Jewel, Bishop of Salisbury, from 
the rare Print in the Herologia, set upon a Diamond 
Cross. Drawn and Engraved by T. Mosses. 

25. Page 177. : Portrait and 

Arms of Sir Henry Savile. Drawn by R. Thomson : 
Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

26. Page 187. View of 

Hooker's Parsonage, at Drayton-Beauchamp, in Buck- 
inghamshire. Drawn on the spot expressly for this 
work, by R. T. Bone. Copied and Engraved by H. White. 

27. Page 199. • ■ ■ Portrait and 

Arms of Dr. John Whitgift, Archbishop of Canterbury. 
Drawn and Engraved by T. Mosses. 

28. Page 230. View of 

Hooker's Parsonage, at Bishop's Bourne, in Kent. 
Drawn by J. P. Neale, from a Drawing in the posses- 
sion of the Hon. and Rev. Dr. Percy, the present 
Rector. The house is not now in the same state. Copied 
and Engraved by H. White. 

29. Page 268. Tail-piece : 

North side of Hooker's Church, at Bishop's Bourne, in 
b 



x DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 

Kent. Drawn on the spot expressly for this Work, by 
J. P. Neale, Copied and Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

30. Page 269. Life of Mr. George Herbert. Device in 

the Title-page : View of the Ruins of Montgomery 
Castle, Montgomeryshire, the Birth-place of Herbert ; 
Vide the ensuingLife, page 273, surrounded by a wreath 
of Passion flowers, emblematical of piety ; and enclo- 
sing the Armorial Ensigns of the family of Clare, the 
first Earls of Pembroke, which title afterwards be- 
longed to the Herberts. Drawn by W. H. Brooke : 
Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

31. Page 272. Intro- 

duction. Tail-piece: The power of Biography and 
Piety over the Grave ; generally expressed in the fore- 
going Introduction, and exemplified by the Funereal 
Urn, Censer, Cross, Spikenard, Laurel-branch, &c. 
Drawn by R. Thomson : Engraved by T. Mosses. 

32. Page 273. Head- 

piece : South East View of the Church of St. Mary, 
at Leighton-Bromswold, in the County of Huntingdon ; 
re-built by Mr. George Herbert; Vide the ensuing 
Life, page 296. Drawn and Engraved by G. W. 
Bonner, from Dr. Zouch's edition of Walton's Lives. 

33. . Initial 

Letter G, enclosing the Armorial Ensigns of Herbert 
and Danvers. Drawn by R. Thomson : Engraved by T. 
Mosses. 

34. Page 289. Portrait 

and Arms of Dr. Launcelot Andrews, Bishop of Win- 
chester. Drawn by W. H. Brooke, from the Original 
Engraving by Loggan. Engraved by T. Mosses. 

35. Page 308. View 

of the Chapel and Parsonage of Bemerton, in Wiltshire, 
from an Original Drawing taken on the spot, and 
kindly furnished by the Venerable Archdeacon Coxe. 
Copied and Engraved by H. White. 



THE EMBELLISHMENTS. xi 

36. Page 331. Life of Mr. George Herbert. View of 

Fulston Church, near Bemerton, in Wiltshire. From 
an Original Drawing made on the spot expressly" for 
this Work, by D. C Read : Engraved by T. Mosses. 

37. Page 348. Herbert's Letter to Nicholas Farrer, Tail-piece : 

Portrait and Arms of Nicholas Farrer, placed be- 
tween two figures in the Religious habit worn at his 
Convent of Little Gidding, in Huntingdonshire. Drawn 
by W. H. Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

38. Page 349. Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson, Bishop of 

Lincoln. Device in the Title-page : Ruins of the Epis- 
copal Palace, at Lincoln, surrounded by a Wreath of 
Snowdrops and Evening Primroses, emblematical of 
his humility, meeting beneath in the Armorial Ensigns 
of the See. Drawn by W. H. Brooke. Engraved by 
G. W. Bonner. 

39. Page 354. ■ Introduc- 

tion, Tail-piece : Armorial Ensigns of the University 
of Oxford and Lincoln College, in which Dr. Sander- 
son was educated, surrounded by the emblems of his 
eloquence, fame, and piety. Drawn by R. Thomson : 
Engraved by H. White. 

40. Page 355. Head- 

piece : View of the Church and Parsonage of Boothby 
Pannell, in the County of Lincoln ; the living of Dr. 
Sanderson for upwards of forty years. Vide page 372 
of the ensuing Life. Drawn by W. Harvey : Engraved 
by H. White. 

41. Initial Letter D. 

Armorial Ensigns of Dr. Sanderson. Drawn by R. 
Thomson : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

42. Page 371. Portrait 

and Arms of Dr. John King, Bishop of London. Drawn 
from the Original Engraving, by S. Passe, by W. H. 
Brooke : Engraved by H. White. 



xii DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 

43. Page 400. Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson : Portrait 

and Arms of Dr. Henry Hammond, with the Sheldonian 
Theatre and other public buildings of Oxford in the 
back ground. Drawn by W. H. Brooke : Engraved by 
T. Mosses 

44. Page 427. . View of 

the Palace at Buckden, in Huntingdonshire, the Seat 
of the Bishops of Lincoln, repaired by Dr. Sanderson. 
Drawn by W. Harvey : Engraved by H. White. 

45. Page 438. Tail-piece : 

View of the Cathedral at Lincoln. Drawn and Engraved 
by H. White. 



The following Illustrations are contained in the Notes. 

46. Head-piece : View of Hooker's Study at Drayton-Beau- 

champ, in Buckinghamshire. From a Sketch taken 
on the spot by R. T. Bone. Drawn by W. Harvey : 
Engraved by H. White. 

47. Portrait of the celebrated John Hales, of Eton ; called 

from his universal learning, " the Walking Library." 
Drawn by W. H. Brooke : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

48. Monument erected to the memory of Sir Henry Wotton, 

by his own desire, in the Chapel of Eton College; 
Vide the ensuing Life, pages 149, 159. From a Sketch 
made on the spot by R. T. Bone. Drawn by J. Find- 
ley : Engraved by G. W. Bonner. 

49. View of St. Paul's Cross, and the manner of preaching 

there, alluded to in the Life of Hooker, page 183, 
Drawn from an Ancient View by W. H. Brooke : 
Engraved by H. White. 

50. Tail-piece : Portrait of Lord Edward Herbert, of Cher- 

bury, the elder brother of George Herbert ; commemo- 
rated by Walton, on page 275 of the ensuing Life. 
Drawn by W. H. Brooke, from the Print attached to 
his Memoirs ; Lond. 1778, 4to. Engraved by G. W. 
Bonner. 

51. Index, Head-piece ; View of the City of Florence, from 



THE EMBELLISHMENTS. xiii 

Fiesole ; referred to by Walton in his Complete 
Angler, Chap v. 

" When I sat last on this primrose bank, and 
" looked down these meadows, I thought of 
" them, as Charles the Emperor did of the City of 
" Florence ; that they were too pleasant to be 
" looked on, but only on holidays," 
Florence was also the chief residence of Sir H. Wotton 
in his exile from England. Vide the ensuing Life, 
page 108. Drawn and Engraved by H. White, from 
the view in Hakewill's Italy, by the kind permission 
of the Proprietor. 
52. Index, Tail-piece : View of Farnham Castle, Surrey ; the 
Seat of the Bishops of Winchester, in which Walton 
wrote the Lives of Hooker and Herbert. Drawn by 
W. H. Brooke : Engraved by T. Mosses. 



COPPER -PLATES. 

1, To face the Title-Page of the Volume : Autograph Signa- 
tures, surrounded by an emblematical design com- 
posed of passion flowers, indicative of the piety of 
the subjects of the ensuing Lives, entwined with 
various devices relative to their learning, eloquence, 
fame, and ecclesiastical rank. The Portrait of 
Walton appears at the top environed by hawthorn ; 
and beneath is a rustic spring issuing from a rock in- 
scribed with afac-simile of his writing, from a presen- 
tation copy of his Lives , belonging to Mr. W. Upcott, 
of the London Institution. The other signatures have 
been procured from the following sources. Dr. Donne, 
from an original Letter attached to the Manuscript of 
his Biathanatos in the Bodleian Library at Oxford ; 
communicated by the Rev. Dr. Bliss : Sir Henry 



xiv DESCRIPTIVE LIST OF 

Wotton, from his Will in the Archives of the Prero- 
gative Court of Canterbury : Richard Hooker, from 
his Will in the Consistory Court at Canterbury, being 
probably the last signature he ever made ; communi- 
cated by J. H. Markland, Esq. : George Herbert, from 
an original Latin Poem in Manuscript in the Collec- 
tion of Mr. W. Upcott, of the London Institution : 
and Dr. Sanderson, Bishop of Lincoln, from his Will 
in the Archives of the Prerogative Court of Canterbury. 
The design drawn by H. Corbould : Engraved by C. 
Heath ; the Signatures traced by R. Thomson : En- 
graved by R. Ashby. 

2. To face the Title-Page of the Life of Dr. Donne : Portrait 

of Dr. John Donne, Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral ; 
copied by permission, from an original Painting in the 
possession of the Rev. Dr. Barrett, of Westminster, by 
R. T. Bone : Engraved by W. Bromley, A. R. A. 

3. Page 24. The Vision. 

From an Original Drawing, designed expressly for the 
present work by W. Wright : Engraved by C. Heath. 
" I have seen a dreadful Vision since I saw you : 
" I have seen my dear wife pass twice by me 
" through this room, with her hair hanging about 
" her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms." 

4. Page 87. To face the Title-Page of the Life of Sir H. Wot- 

ton : Portrait of Sir Henry Wotton, Provost of Eton 
College. Copied by permission, from the Original 
Painting at Eton College, by R. T. Bone : Engraved 
by W. Finden. 

5. Page 128. Life of Sir H. Wotton : The Jewel. 

From an Original Painting, designed expressly for the 
present work by R. C. Leslie, Esq. A. R. A. Engraved 
by J. Mitchell. 

" The next morning at his departing from Vienna, 
" he, at his taking leave of the Countess of Sa- 
" brina, — an Italian Lady, in whose house the 



THE EMBELLISHMENTS. xv 

" Emperor had appointed him to be lodged and 
" honourably entertained, — acknowledged her 
" merits, and besought her to accept of that Jewel, 
" as a testimony of his gratitude for her civilities." 

6. Page 161. To face the Title-Page of the Life of R. Hooker : 

Portrait of Mr. Richard Hooker, from his Monument 
in Bishop's Bourne Church, Kent : Engraved by F. 
Engleheart. 

7. Page 187. Life of Richard Hooker : The Country Pastor. 

From an Original Painting, designed expressly for the 
present work by R. T. Bone : Engraved by W. R. 
Smith. 

" And in this condition he continued about a 
" year ; in which time his two pupils, Edwin 
" Sandys and George Cranmer, took a journey 
" to see their Tutor ; where they found him with 
" a book in his hand, it was the Odes of Horace, 
" he being then, like humble and innocent Abel, 
" tending his small allotment of sheep in a com- 
" mon field." 

8. Page 269. To face the Title-page of the Life of G. Herbert : 

Portrait of Mr. George Herbert, Engraved after the 
fine Print by Robert White, by Ambrose Warren. 

9. Page 328. Life of Mr. George Herbert : The Good Sama- 

ritan. From an Original Painting, designed expressly 
for the present work, by A. Cooper, Esq. R. A. En- 
graved by C. Rolls. 

" In another walk to Salisbury, he saw a poor 
" man, with a poorer horse, that was fallen down 
" under his load ; they were both in distress and 
" needed present help ; which Mr. Herbert ob- 
" serving, put off his canonical coat, and helped 
" the poor man to unload, and after to load his 
" horse." 

10. Page 349. To face the Title-page of the Life of Dr. San- 

derson : Portrait of Dr. Robert Sanderson, Bishop of 



xvi DESCRIPTIVE LIST, &c. 

Lincoln. Engraved by W. Raddon, from the Original 

Print by Robert White. 

With respect to the Portraits of Hooker, Herbert, 
and Sanderson, the Publisher of the present 
volume has been unable to procure any finer or 
more authentic originals, than those which have 
hitherto been before the Public ; but if there 
exist any good and genuine Paintings of these 
celebrated men, he will feel obliged by a com- 
munication concerning them. 
11. Page 377. Life of Dr. R. Sanderson : The Advocate. From an 

Original Painting designed expressly for the present 

work, by P. R. Stephanoff. Engraved by J. Romney. 
" To the Landlord he went the next day, and in 
" a conference, the Doctor presented to him the 
" sad condition of his poor dejected Tenant." 
" These, and such other reasons were urged with 
" so grave and compassionate an earnestness, that 
" the Landlord forgave his Tenant the whole 
" rent." 




XV11 
TO THE 



RIGHT HONOURABLE AND REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, 

GEORGE, 
LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, 




AND PRELATE OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER 
OF THE GARTER. 



MY LORD, 

I did some years past, present you with a plain 
relation of the Life of Mr. Richard Hooker, that 
humble man, to whose memory, Princes and the 
most learned of this nation, have paid a rever- 
ence at the mention of his name. And now, 
with Mr. Hooker's, I present you also, the Life 
of that pattern of primitive piety, Mr. George 
Herbert ; and with his the Life of Dr. Donne, 
and your friend Sir Henri/ Wotton, all re- 
printed. The two first were written under 



XVlll DEDICATION. 

your roof: for which reason, if they were worth 
it, you might justly challenge a Dedication. 
And indeed, so you might of Dr. Donne's, and 
Sir Henry Wottoris : because, if I had been fit 
for this undertaking, it would not have been by 
acquired learning or study, but by the advantage 
of forty years friendship, and thereby, with 
hearing and discoursing with your Lordship, 
that hath enabled me to make the relation of 
these Lives passable — if they prove so — in an 
eloquent and captious age. 

And indeed, my Lord, though these relations 
be well-meant sacrifices to the memory of these 
worthy men ; yet I have so little confidence in 
my performance, that I beg pardon for super- 
scribing your name to them: and desire all 
that know your Lordship, to apprehend this 
not as a Dedication, — at least by which you 
receive any addition of honour ; — but rather as 
an humble, and a more public acknowledgement, 
of your long-continued, and your now daily 
favours to 

My Lord, 

Your most affectionate, 

and most humble servant, 
Izaak Walton. 



i 




Engra^a "by W. Bromley A.B..A. 



LOFD ON, 

Published "by Join Major. 50. ELeet Street, 

May 15^1825. 



THE LIFE 



DR. JOHN DONNE, 

LATE DEAN OF ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, 
LONDON. 




LONDON : 

JOHN MAJOR, 

MDCCCXXV. 



INTRODUCTION, 

TO 

THE LIFE 

OF 

DOCTOR DONNE; 

as originally prefixed to the flrst collection of his 
Sermons in 1640. 

If that great master of language and art, Sir Henry 
Wotton, the late Provost of Eton College, had lived to 
see the publication of these Sermons, he had presented 
the world with the Author's life exactly written ; and 
'twas pity he did not, for it was a work worthy his under- 
taking, and he fit to undertake it : betwixt whom and the 
Author there was so mutual a knowledge, and such a 
friendship contracted in their youth, as nothing but death 
could force a separation. And, though their bodies were 
divided, their affections were not; for that learned Knight's 
love followed his friend's fame beyond death and the for- 
getful grave ; which he testified by entreating me, whom 
he acquainted with his design, to enquire of some parti- 
culars that concerned it, not doubting but my knowledge 
of the Author, and love to his memory, might make my 
diligence useful: I did most gladly undertake the em- 
ployment, and continued it with great content, till I had 
made my collection ready to be augmented and completed 
by his matchless pen : but then death prevented his in- 
tentions. 

When I heard that sad news, and heard also that these 
Sermons were to be printed, and want the Author's life, 
which I thought to be very remarkable ; indignation or 
grief — indeed I know not which — transported me so far, 
that I reviewed my forsaken collections, and resolved the 
world should see the best plain picture of the Author's 
life, that my artless pencil, guided by the hand of truth, 
could present to it. 



INTRODUCTION, 

And if I shall now be demanded, as once Pompey's 
poor bond-man was,* " the grateful wretch had been left 
" alone on the sea-shore, with the forsaken 
* Plutarch. " dead body of his once glorious lord and mas- 
" ter ; and was then gathering the scattered 
" pieces of an old broken boat, to make a funeral pile 
" to burn it ; which was the custom of the Romans — 
" Who art thou, that alone hast the honour to bury the 
" body of Pompey the Great ?" So, who am I, that do 
thus officiously set the Author's memory on fire ? I hope 
the question will prove to have in it more of wonder 
than disdain ; but wonder indeed the reader may, that I, 
who profess myself artless, should presume with my faint 
light to shew forth his life, whose very name makes it 
illustrious ! But, be this to the disadvantage of the person 
represented : certain I am, it is to the advantage of the be- 
holder, who shall here see the Author's picture in a natural 
dress, which ought to beget faith in what is spoken : for he 
that wants skill to deceive, may safely be trusted. 

And if the Author's glorious spirit, which now is in 
heaven, can have the leisure to look down and see me, 
the poorest, the meanest of all his friends, in the midst 
of this officious duty, confident I am, that he will not dis- 
dain this well-meant sacrifice to his memory : for, whilst 
his conversation made me and many others happy below, 
I know his humility and gentleness were then eminent ; 
and, I have heard divines say, those virtues that were but 
sparks upon earth, become great and glorious flames in 
heaven. 

Before I proceed further, I am to entreat the reader to 
take notice, that when Doctor Donne's Sermons were 
first printed, this was then my excuse for daring to write 
his life ; and I dare not now appear without it. 





THE LIFE 

OF 

PR. JOHN DONNE, 

LATE DEAN OF ST. PAUl's CHURCH, LONDON. 



aster John Donne was born 
in London, in the year 1573, of 
good and virtuous parents: and, 
though his own learning and 
other multiplied merits may 
justly appear sufficient to dig- 
nify both himself and his poste- 
rity 3 yet the reader may be 
pleased to know, that his father was masculinely 
and lineally descended from a very ancient family 
in Wales, where many of his name now live, that 
deserve, and have great reputation in that country. 




4 THE LIFE OF 

By his mother he was descended of the family of 
the famous and learned Sir Thomas More, sometime 
Lord Chancellor of England : as also, from that wor- 
thy and laborious Judge Rastall, who left posterity 
the vast Statutes of the Law of this nation most 
exactly abridged. 

He had his first breeding in his father's house, 
where a private tutor had the care of him, until the 
tenth year of his age j and, in his eleventh year, was 
sent to the University of Oxford; having at that 
time a good command both of the French and Latin 
tongue. This, and some other of his remarkable 
abilities, made one then give this censure of him ; 
That this age had brought forth another Picus Miran- 
dula ; of whom story says, That he was rather born, 
than made wise by study. 

There he remained for some years in Hart-Hall, 
having, for the advancement of his studies, tutors 
of several sciences to attend and instruct him, till 
time made him capable, and his learning expressed 
in public exercises, declared him worthy, to receive 
his first degree in the schools, which he forbore by 
advice from his friends, who, being for their reli- 
gion of the Romish persuasion, were conscionably 
averse to some parts of the oath that is always ten- 
dered at those times, and not to be refused by those 
that expect the titulary honour of their studies. 

About the fourteenth year of his age, he was trans- 
planted from Oxford to Cambridge ; where, that he 
might receive nourishment from both soils, he staid 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 5 

till his seventeenth year -, all which time he was a 
most laborious student, often changing his studies, 
but endeavouring to take no degree, for the reasons 
formerly mentioned. 

About the seventeenth year of his age he was re- 
moved to London, and then admitted into Lincoln s 
Inn, with an intent to study the Law ; where he 
gave great testimonies of his wit, his learning, and 
of his improvement in that profession 5 which never 
served him for other use than an ornament and 
self-satisfaction. 

His father died before his admission into this 
society ; and, being a merchant, left him his portion 
in money. (It was a£3000.) His mother, and those 
to whose care he was committed, were watchful to 
improve his knowledge, and to that end appointed 
him tutors both in the Mathematics, and in all the 
other Liberal Sciences, to attend him. But with 
these arts, they were advised to instil into him par- 
ticular principles of the Romish Church ; of which 
those tutors professed, though secretly, themselves 
to be members. 

They had almost obliged him to their faith ; hav- 
ing for their advantage, besides many opportunities, 
the example of his dear and pious parents, which 
was a most powerful persuasion, and did work 
much upon him, as he professeth in his Preface to 
his Pseudo-Martyr, a book of which the reader shall 
have some account in what follows. 

He was now entered into the eighteenth year of 



6 THE LIFE OF 

his age ; and at that time had betrothed himself to 
no religion, that might give him any other denomi- 
nation than a Christian. And reason and piety had 
both persuaded him, that there could be no such sin 
as Schism, if an adherence to some visible Church 
were not necessary. 

About the nineteenth year of his age, he, being 
then unresolved what religion to adhere to, and con- 
sidering how much it concerned his soul to choose 
the most orthodox, did therefore, — though his youth 
and health promised him a long life — to rectify all 
scruples that might concern that, presently lay aside 
all study of the Law, and of all other sciences that 
might give him a denomination -, and began seri- 
ously to survey and consider the body of Divinity, 
as it was then controverted betwixt the Reformed 
and the Roman Church. And, as God's blessed Spirit 
did then awaken him to the search, and in that industry 
did never forsake him, — they be his 

'28EZ&? own *°rds*_ S o he calls the same 
Holy Spirit to witness this protestation ; 
that in that disquisition and search, he proceeded with 
humility and diffidence in himself ; and by that which he 
took to be the safest way ; namely, frequent prayers, 
and an indifferent affection to both parties; and in- 
deed, Truth had too much light about her to be hid 
from so sharp an enquirer ; and he had too much 
ingenuity, not to acknowledge he had found her. 

Being to undertake this search, he believed the 
Cardinal Bellarmine to be the best defender of the 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 7 

Roman cause, and therefore betook himself to the 
examination of his reasons. The cause was weighty, 
and wilful delays had been inexcusable both towards 
God and his own conscience : he therefore pro- 
ceeded in this search with all moderate haste, and 
about the twentieth year of his age, did shew the 
then Dean of Gloucester — whose name my memory 
hath now lost — all the Cardinal's works marked with 
many weighty observations under his own hand; 
which works were bequeathed by him, at his death, 
as a legacy to a most dear friend. 

About a year following he resolved to travel; 
and the Earl of Essex going first the Cales, and after 
the Island voyages, the first Anno 1596, the second 
1597, he took the advantage of those opportunities, 
waited upon his Lordship, and was an eye-witness 
of those happy and unhappy employments. 

But he returned not back into England, till he 
had staid some years, first in Italy, and then in 
Spain, where he made many useful observations of 
those countries, their laws and manner of govern- 
ment, and returned perfect in their languages. 

The time that he spent in Spain, was, at his first 
going into Italy, designed for travelling to the Holy 
Land, and for viewing Jerusalem and the Sepulchre 
of our Saviour. But at his being in the furthest 
parts of Italy, the disappointment of company, or of 
a safe convoy, or the uncertainty of returns of 
money into those remote parts, denied him that 
happiness, which he did often occasionally mention 
with a deploration. 



8 THE LIFE OF 

Not long after his return into England, that ex- 
emplary pattern of gravity and wisdom, the Lord 
Ellesmere, then Keeper of the Great Seal, and Lord 
Chancellor of England, taking notice of his learning, 
languages, and other abilities, and much affecting 
his person and behaviour, took him to be his chief 
Secretary ; supposing and intending it to be an in- 
troduction to some more weighty employment in 
the State ; for which, his Lordship did often protest, 
he thought him very fit. 

Nor did his Lordship in this time of Master 
Donne s attendance upon him, account him to be so 
much his servant, as to forget he was his friend ; 
and, to testify it, did always use him with much 
courtesy, appointing him a place at his own table, 
to which he esteemed his company and discourse to 
be a great ornament. 

He continued that employment for the space of 
five years, being daily useful, and not mercenary to 
his friends. During which time., he, — I dare not say 
unhappily — fell into such a liking, as, — with her ap- 
probation, — increased into a love, with a young gen- 
tlewoman that lived in that family, who was niece 
to the Lady Ellesmere, and daughter to Sir George 
More, then Chancellor of the Garter and Lieutenant 
of the Tower. 

Sir George had some intimation of it, and, know- 
ing prevention to be a great part of wisdom, did 
therefore remove her with much haste, from that to 
his own house at Lothesley, in the County of Surrey ; 
but too late, by reason of some faithful promises 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 9 

which were so interchangeably passed, as never to 
be violated by either party. 

These promises were only known to themselves 5 
and the friends of both parties used much diligence, 
and many arguments, to kill or cool their affections 
to each other : but in vain j for Love is a flattering 
mischief, that hath denied aged and wise men a 
foresight of those evils that too often prove to be 
the children of that blind father ; a passion, that 
carries us to commit errors with as much ease as 
whirlwinds move feathers, and begets in us an 
unwearied industry to the attainment of what we 
desire. And such an industry did, notwithstanding 
much watchfulness against it, bring them secretly 
together, — I forbear to tell the manner how — and 
at last to a marriage too, without the allowance of 
those friends, whose approbation always was, and 
ever will be, necessary, to make even a virtuous 
love become lawful. 

And, that the knowledge of their marriage might 
not fall, like an unexpected tempest, on those that 
were unwilling to have it so ; and that pre-appre- 
hensions might make it the less enormous when it 
was known, it was purposely whispered into the 
ears of many that it was so, yet by none that could 
affirm it. But, to put a period to the jealousies of 
Sir George, — doubt often begetting more restless 
thoughts than the certain knowledge of what we 
fear — the news was, in favour to Mr. Donne, and 
with his allowance, made known to Sir George, by 
c 



10 THE LIFE OF 

his honourable friend and neighbour Henry, Earl 
of Northumberland : but it was to Sir George so 
immeasurably unwelcome, and so transported him, 
that, as though his passion of anger and inconsi- 
deration might exceed their' s of love and error, he 
presently engaged his sister, the Lady Ellesmere, to 
join with him to procure her lord to discharge Mr. 
Donne of the place he held under his Lordship. 
This request was followed with violence j and 
though Sir George were remembered, that errors 
might be over punished, and desired therefore to 
forbear, till second considerations might clear some 
scruples ; yet he became restless until his suit was 
granted, and the punishment executed. And though 
the Lord Chancellor did not, at Mr. Donne's dis- 
mission, give him such a commendation as the great 
Emperor Charles the Fifth did of his Secretary Eraso, 
when he parted with him to his son and succes- 
sor, Philip the Second, saying, " That in his Eraso, 
he gave to him a greater gift than all his estate, and all 
the kingdoms which he then resigned to him : yet the 
Lord Chancellor said, " He parted with a friend, and such 
a Secretary as was fitter to serve a king than a subject." 
Immediately after his dismission from his service, 
he sent a sad letter to his wife, to acquaint her with 
it : and after the subscription of his name, writ, 

John Donne, Anne Donne, Un-done ; 

And God knows it proved too true : for this bitter 
physic of Mr. Donne's dismission, was not enough to 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 11 

purge out all Sir Georges choler ; for he was not 
satisfied till Mr. Donne and his sometime eom-pupil 
in Cambridge, that married him, namely, Samuel 
Brooke,who was after Doctor in Divinity, and Master 
of Trinity College — and his brother Mr. Christopher 
Brooke, sometime Mr. Donne's chamber-fellow in 
Lincoln's Inn, who gave Mr. Donne his wife, and 
witnessed the marriage, were all committed to three 
several prisons. 

Mr. Donne was first enlarged, who neither gave 
rest to his body or brain, nor to any friend in whom 
he might hope to have an interest, until he had 
procured an enlargement for his two imprisoned 
friends. 

He was now at liberty, but his days were still 
cloudy: and being past these troubles, others did 
still multiply upon him j for his wife was, — to her 
extreme sorrow — detained from him; and though 
with Jacob he endured not an hard service for her, 
yet he lost a good one, and was forced to make good 
his title and to get possession of her by a long and 
restless suit in law j which proved troublesome and 
sadly chargeable to him, whose youth, and travel, 
and needless bounty, had brought his estate into a 
narrow compass. 

It is observed, and most truly, that silence and 
submission are charming qualities, and work most 
upon passionate men ; and it proved so with Sir 
George; for these, and a general report of Mr. 
Donne s merits, together with his winning beha- 
viour, — which, when it would entice, had a strange 



12 THE LIFE OF 

kind of elegant irresistible art; — these, and time had 
so dispassionated Sir George, that as the world had 
approved his daughter's choice, so he also could not 
but see a more than ordinary merit in his new son ; 
and this at last melted him into so much remorse, — 
for love and anger are so like agues, as to have hot 
and cold fits 5 and love in parents, though it may 
be quenched, yet is easily re-kindled, and expires not 
till death denies mankind a natural heat, — that he 
laboured his son's restoration to his place ; using to 
that end, both his own and his sister's power to her 
lord 5 but with no sucess ; for his answer was, That 
though he was unfeignedly sorry for what he had done, 
yet it was inconsistent with his place and credit, to dis- 
charge and re-admit servants at the request of passionate 
petitioners. 

Sir George's endeavour for Mr. Donne's re -admis- 
sion, was by all means to be kept secret :— for men 
do more naturally reluct for errors, than submit to 
put on those blemishes that attend their visible ac- 
knowledgement- — But, however, it was not long 
before Sir George appeared to be so far reconciled, 
as to wish their happiness, and not to deny them his 
paternal blessing, but yet refused to contribute any 
means that might conduce to their livelihood. 

Mr. Donne's estate was the greatest part spent in 
many and chargeable travels, books, and dear-bought 
experience : he out of all employment that might 
yield a support for himself and wife, who had been 
curiously and plentifully educated; both their na- 
tures generous, and accustomed to confer, and not to 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 13 

receive, courtesies : these and other considerations, 
but chiefly that his wife was to bear a part in his 
sufferings, surrounded him with many sad thoughts, 
and some apparent apprehensions of want. 

But his sorrows were lessened and his wants pre- 
vented, by the seasonable courtesy of their noble 
kinsman, Sir Francis Wolly, of Pirford in Surrey, who 
intreated them to a cohabitation with him ; where 
they remained with much freedom to themselves, 
and equal content to him, for some years j and as 
their charge increased — she had yearly a child,— so 
did his love and bounty. 

It hath been observed by wise and considering 
men, that wealth hath seldom been the portion, and 
never the mark to discover good people ; but that 
Almighty God, who disposeth all things wisely, hath 
of his abundant goodness denied it — he only knows 
why — to many, whose minds he hath enriched with 
the greater blessings of knowledge and virtue, as the 
fairer testimonies of his love to mankind : and this 
was the present condition of this man of so excellent 
erudition and endowments 3 whose necessary and 
daily expences, were hardly reconcileable with his 
uncertain and narrow estate. Which I mention, for 
that at this time, there was a most generous offer 
made him for the moderating of his worldly cares j 
the declaration of which shall be the next employ- 
ment of my pen. 

God hath been so good to his Church, as to afford 
it in every age, some such men to serve at his altar, 



14 



THE LIFE OF 



1648. 



as have been piously ambitious of doing good to 
mankind j a disposition, that is so like to God him- 
self, that it owes itself only to Him, who takes a 
pleasure to behold it in his creatures. These 
times * he did bless with many such ; some 
of which still live to be patterns of apostolical charity, 
and of more than human patience. I have said this, 
because I have occasion to mention one of them in 
my following discourse j namely, Dr. Morton, 




the most laborious and learned Bishop of Durham ; 1 
one that God hath blessed with perfect intellectuals 
and a cheerful heart at the age of 94 years — and is 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 15 

yet living :-— one, that in his days of plenty had so 
large a heart, as to use his large revenue to the en- 
couragement of Learning and Virtue, and is now — be 
it spoken with sorrow — reduced to a narrow estate, 
which he embraces without repining 5 and still shews 
the beauty of his mind by so liberal a hand, as if this 
were an age in which to-morrow were to care for itself. 
I have taken a pleasure in giving the reader a short, 
but true character of this good man, my friend, from 
whom I received this following relation. — He sent 
to Mr. Donne, and intreated to borrow an hour of his 
time for a conference the next day. After their 
meeting, there was not many minutes passed before 
he spake to Mr. Donne to this purpose : tf Mr. 
" Donne, the occasion of sending for you, is to pro- 
" pose to you what I have often revolved in my own 
" thought since I last saw you : which nevertheless, 
" I will not declare but upon this condition, that you 
" shall not return me a present answer, but forbear 
" three days, and bestow some part of that time in 
" fasting and prayer j and after a serious considera- 
" tion of what I shall propose, then return to me 
"with your answer. Deny me not, Mr. Donne; 
" for, it is the effect of a true love, which I would 
" gladly pay as a debt due for your's to me." 

This request being granted, the Doctor expressed 
himself thus : 

" Mr. Donne, I know your education and abilities ; 
" I know your expectation of a State-employment ; 
" and I know your fitness for it ; and I know too 



16 THE LIFE OF 

" the many delays and contingencies that attend 
'- Court-promises : and let me tell you, that my 

* love, begot by our long friendship and your merits, 
" hath prompted me to such an inquisition after your 
" present temporal estate, as makes me no stranger 
" to your necessities -, which I know to be such as 
" your generous spirit could not bear, if it were not 
" supported with a pious patience. You know I 
" have formerly persuaded you to wave your Court- 
" hopes, and enter into holy orders -, which I now 
" again persuade you to embrace, with this reason 
ft added to my former request : The King hath yes- 
a terday made me Dean of Gloucester, and I am 
" also possessed of a benefice, the profits of which 
<( are equal to those of my Deanery ; I will think my 
" Deanery enough for my maintenance, — who am, 
" and resolve to die, a single man — and will quit 
" my benefice, and estate you in it, — which the Pa- 
" tron is willing I shall do — if God shall incline 
" your heart to embrace this motion. Remember, 
" Mr. Donne, no man's education or parts make him 
" too good for this employment, which is to be an 
ei ambassador for the God of glory ; that God, who by 
" a vile death opened the gates of life to mankind. 
" Make me no present answer 3 but remember your 

* promise, and return to me the third day with your 
" resolution." 

At the hearing of this, Mr. Donne s faint breath 
and perplexed countenance, gave a visible testimony 
of an inward conflict : but he performed his promise, 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 17 

and departed without returning an answer till the 
third day, and then his answer was to this effect : 

" My most worthy and most dear friend, since I 
" saw you, I have been faithful to my promise, and 
" have also meditated much of your great kindness, 
" which hath been such as would exceed even my 
" gratitude ; but that it cannot do ; and more I 
* cannot return you -, and I do that with an heart 
" full of humility and thanks, though I may not ac- 
" cept of your offer : but, Sir, my refusal is not for 
" that I think myself too good for that calling, for 
f which Kings, if they think so, are not good enough : 
" nor for that my education and learning, though not 
" eminent, may not, being assisted with God's grace 
" and humility, render me in some measure fit for 
" it ; but I dare make so dear a friend as you are, 
' f my confessor : some irregularities of my life have 
" been so visible to some men, that though I have, 
" I thank God, made my peace with him by peniten- 
" tial resolutions against them, and by the assistance 
" of his grace banished them my affections j yet this, 
" which God knows to be so, is not so visible to 
" man, as to free me from their censures, and it may 
" be that sacred calling from a dishonour. And 
" besides, whereas it is determined by the best of 
" Casuists, that God's glory should be the first end, and 
" a maintenance the second motive to embrace that call- 
" ing; and though each man may propose to himself 
" both together, yet the first may not be put last 
" without a violation of conscience, which he that 

D 



18 THE LIFE OF 

" searches the heart will judge. And truly my 
" present condition is such, that if I ask my own 
" conscience, whether it be reconcileable to that rule, 
" it is at this time so perplexed about it, that I can 
" neither give myself nor you an answer. You 
" know, Sir, who says, Happy is that man whose con- 
" science doth not accuse him for that thing which he 
" does. To these I might add other reasons that 
" dissuade me j but I crave your favour that I may 
" forbear to express them, and thankfully decline 
" your offer. 

This was his present resolution, but the heart of 
man is not in his own keeping $ and he was des- 
tined to this sacred service by an higher hand j a 
hand so powerful, as at last forced him to a com- 
pliance : of which I shall give the reader an account, 
before I shall give a rest to my pen. 

Mr. Donne and his wife continued with Sir Francis 
Wolly till his death : a little before which time, Sir 
Francis was so happy as to make a perfect recon- 
ciliation betwixt Sir George, and his forsaken son 
and daughter -, Sir George conditioning by bond, 
to pay to Mr. Donne 8001. at a certain day, as a 
portion with his wife, or 9,01. quarterly for their 
maintenance, as the interest for it, till the said por- 
tion was paid. 

Most of those years that he lived with Sir Francis, 
he studied the Civil and Canon Laws ; in which he 
acquired such a perfection, as was judged to hold 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 19 

proportion with many, who had made that study the 
employment of their whole life. 

Sir Francis being dead, and that happy family 
dissolved, Mr. Donne took for himself a house in 
Mitcham, — near to Croydon in Surrey — a place noted 
for good air and choice company : there his wife and 
children remained j and for himself he took lodgings 
in London, near to White-hall, whither his friends 
and occasions drew him very often, and where he 
was as often visited, by many of the Nobility and 
others of this nation, who used him in their counsels 
of greatest consideration, and with some rewards 
for his better subsistence. 

Nor did our own Nobility only value and favour 
him, but his acquaintance and friendship was sought 
for by most Ambassadors of foreign nations, and by 
many other strangers, whose learning or business 
occasioned their stay in this nation. 

He was much importuned by many friends to 
make his constant residence in London ; but he still 
denied it, having settled his dear wife and children 
at Mitcham, and near some friends that were boun- 
tiful to them and him - } for they, God knows, needed 
it : and that you may the better now judge of the 
then present condition of his mind and fortune, I 
shall present you with an extract collected out of 
some few of his many letters. 

And the reason why I did not send an answer 

to your last week's letter, was, because it then found 



20 THE LIFE OF 

me under too great a sadness ; and at present 'tis thus 
with me : There is not one person, but myself, well of 
my family : I have already lost half a child, and, with 
that mischance of hers, my wife is fallen into such a 
discomposure, as would afflict her too extremely, but that 
the sickness of all her other children stwpifies her : of 
one of which, in good faith, 1 have not much hope: and 
these meet with a fortune so ill-provided for physic, and 
such relief, that if God should ease us with burials, I 
know not how to perform even that : but I flatter my- 
self with this hope, that I am dying too ; for I cannot 

waste faster than by such griefs. As for, 

From my hospital at Mitcham, 
Aug. 10. JOHN DONNE. 

Thus he did bemoan himself: and thus in other 
letters. 

- — — For, we hardly discover a sin, when it is but an 
omission of some good, and no accusing act : with this 
or the former, I have often suspected myself to be over- 
taken ; which is, with an over-earnest desire of the 
next life : and, though I know it is not merely a weari- 
ness of this, because I had the same desire when I went 
with the tide, and enjoyed fairer hopes than I now do ; 
yet I doubt worldly troubles have increased it : 'tis now 
Spring, and all the pleasures of it displease me -, every 
other tree blossoms, and I wither : I grow older, and not 
better ; my strength diminisheth, and my load grows 
heavier -, and yet, I would fain be or do something ; but 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 21 

that I cannot tell what, is no wonder in this time of my 
sadness ; for to choose is to do; but to be no part of 
any body, is as to be nothing : and so I am, and shall 
so judge myself, unless I could be so incorporated into 
a part of the world, as by business to contribute some 
sustentation to the whole. This I made account; I 
began early, when I understood the study of our Laws ; 
but was diverted by leaving that, and embracing the 
ivorst voluptuousness, an hydroptic immoderate de- 
sire of human learning and languages : beautiful 
ornaments indeed to men of great fortunes, but mine 
was grown so low as to need an occupation ; which I 
thought I entered well into, when I subjected myself to 
such a service as I thought might excercise my poor 
abilities : and there I stumbled, and fell too ; and now 
I am become so little, or such a nothing, that I am not 
a subject good enough for one of my own letters.— Sir, 
I fear my present discontent, does not proceed from a 
good root, that I am so well content to be nothing, that 
is, dead. But, Sir, though my fortune hath made me 
such, as that I am rather a sickness or a disease of the 
world, than any part of it, and therefore neither love it, 
nor life ; yet I would gladly live to become some such 
thing as you should not repent loving me : Sir, your own 
soul cannot be more zealous for your good, than I am ; 
and God, who loves that zeal in me, will not suffer you 
to doubt it : You would pity me now, if you saw me write, 
for my pain hath drawn my head so much awry, and 
holds it so, that my eye cannot follow my pen. I there' 



22 THE LIFE OF 

fore receive you into my prayers with mine own weary 
soul, and commend myself to yours. I doubt not but 
next week vnll bring you good news, for I have either 
mending or dying on my side : but, if 1 do continue 
longer thus, I shall have comfort in this, that my blessed 
Saviour in exercising his justice upon my two worldly 
parts, my fortune and my body, reserves all his mercy 
for that which most needs it, my soul ! which is, I doubt, 
too like a porter, that is very often near the gate, and 
yet goes not out. Sir, I profess to you truly, that my 
loathness to give over writing now, seems to myself a 
sign that I shall write no more. 

Your poor friend, and 

" God's poor patient, 
Sept. 7. JOHN DONNE. 

By this you have seen a part of the picture of his 
narrow fortune, and the perplexities of his generous 
mind $ and thus it continued with him for about two 
years, all which time his family remained constantly 
at Mitcham; and to which place he often retired 
himself, and destined some days to a constant study 
of some points of controversy betwixt the English 
and Roman Church, and especially those of Supre- 
macy and Allegiance: and to that place and such 
studies, he could willingly have wedded himself 
during his life : but the earnest persuasion of friends 
became at last to be so powerful, as to cause the 
removal of himself and family to London, where Sir 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 23 

Robert Drewry, a gentleman of a very noble estate, 
and a more liberal mind, assigned him and his wife 
an useful apartment in his own large house in Drury- 
lane, and not only rent free, but was also a cherisher 
of his studies, and such a friend as sympathized with 
him and his, in all their joy and sorrows. 

At this time of Mr. Donne s and his wife's living 
in Sir Robert's house, the Lord Hay, was, by King 
James, sent upon a glorious embassy to the then 
French King, Henry the Fourth $ and Sir Robert put 
on a sudden resolution to accompany him to the 
French Court, and to be present at his audience there. 
And Sir Robert put on as sudden a resolution, to so- 
licit Mr, Donne to be his companion in that journey. 
And this desire was suddenly made known to his wife, 
who was then with child, and otherwise under so 
dangerous a habit of body, as to her health, that she 
professed an unwillingness to allow him any absence 
from her ; saying, Her divining soul boded her some 
ill in his absence; and therefore desired him not to 
leave her. This made Mr. Donne lay aside all 
thoughts of the journey, and really to resolve against 
it. But Sir Robert became restless in his persua- 
sions for it, and Mr. Donne was so generous as to 
think he had sold his liberty, when he received so 
many charitable kindnesses from him j and told his 
wife so j who did therefore, with an unwilling- wil- 
lingness, give a faint consent to the journey, which 
was proposed to be but for two months ; for about 



24 THE LIFE OF 

that time they determined their return. Within a 
few days after this resolve, the Ambassador, Sir 
Robert, and Mr. Donne, left London ,• and were the 
twelfth day got all safe to Paris. Two days after 
their arrival there, Mr. Donne was left alone in that 
room, in which Sir Robert, and he, and some other 
friends had dined together. To this place Sir Robert 
returned within half an hour 5 and as he left, so he 
found, Mr. Donne alone : but in such an ecstasy, and 
so altered as to his looks, as amazed Sir Robert to 
behold him ; insomuch that he earnestly desired 
Mr. Donne to declare what had befallen him in the 
short time of his absence. To which Mr. Donne 
was not able to make a present answer : but, after 
a long and perplexed pause, did at last say, 1 have 
seen a dreadful Vision since I saw you : I have seen my 
dear wife pass twice by me through this room, with her 
hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in 
her arms : this I have seen since I saw you. To which 
Sir Robert replied, Sure, Sir, you have slept since I saw 
you ; and this is the result of some melancholy dream, 
which I desire you to forget, for you are now awake. 
To which Mr. Donne s reply was : I cannot be surer 
that I now live, than that I have not slept since I saw 
you : and am as sure, that at her second appearing, she 
stopped, and looked me in the face, and vanished. — Rest 
and sleep had not altered Mr. Donne's opinion the 
next day : for he then affirmed this vision with a 
more deliberate, and so confirmed a confidence, that 



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DR. JOHN DONNE. 25 

he inclined Sir Robert to a faint belief that the Vision 
was true, — It is truly said, that desire and doubt 
have no rest ; and it proved so with Sir Robert ; for 
he immediately sent a servant to Drew;n/-house, 
with a charge to hasten back, and bring him word, 
whether Mrs. Donne were alive • and, if alive, in what 
condition she was as to her health. The twelfth day 
the messenger returned with this account — That 
he found and left Mrs. Donne very sad, and sick in 
her bed 5 and that, after a long and dangerous labour, 
she had been delivered of a dead child. And, upon 
examination, the abortion proved to be the same day, 
and about the very hour, that Mr. Donne affirmed 
he saw her pass by him in his chamber. 

This is a relation that will beget some wonder, 
and it well may ; for most of our world are at pre- 
sent possessed with an opinion, that Visions and 
Miracles are ceased. And, though it is most certain, 
that two lutes being both strung and tuned to an 
equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other, 
that is not touched, being laid upon a table at a fit 
distance, will — like an echo to a trumpet- — warble 
a faint audible harmony in answer to the same tune 5 
yet many will not believe there is any such thing as 
a sympathy of souls; and I am well pleased, that 
every Reader do enjoy his own opinion. But if the 
unbelieving, will not allow the believing Reader of 
this story, a liberty to believe that it may be true j 
£hen I wish him to consider, many wise men have 

B 



26 THE LIFE OF 

believed that the ghost of Julius Ccesar did appear 
to Brutus, and that both St. Austin, and Monica his 
mother, had visions in order to his conversion. And 
though these, and many others — too many to name 
— have but the authority of human story, yet the in- 
credible Reader may find in the Sacred 
* 1 Sam.xxviii. story> * that Samuel did appear to Saul 
even after his death — whether really 
or not, I undertake not to determine. — And Bildad, in 
the Book of Job, says these words ; t 
' " " A spirit passed before my face ; the hair 

of my head stood up ; fear and trembling came upon me, 
and made all my bones to shake" Upon which words 
I will make no comment, but leave them to be con- 
sidered by the incredulous Reader -, to whom I will 
also commend this following consideration : That 
there be many pious and learned men, that believe 
our merciful God hath assigned to every man a par- 
ticular Guardian Angel, to be his constant monitor j 
and to attend him in all his dangers, both of body 
and soul. And the opinion that every man hath his 
particular Angel, may gain some authority, by the 
relation of St. Peter s miraculous deliverance out of 
prison, % not by many, but by one Angel. 

XA ib.i3-i5 10 ' And this belief ma y y et S ain more cre " 

dit, by the Reader's considering, that 
when Peter after his enlargement knocked at the door 
of Mary the mother of John, and Rhode, the maid-ser- 
vant, being surprized with joy that Peter was there, 



DIt. JOHN DONNE. 27 

did not let him in, but ran in haste, and told the Disci- 
ples — who were then and there met together — that 
Peter was at the door ; and they, not believing it, said 
she was mad : yet, when she again affirmed it, though 
they then believed it not, yet they concluded, and 
said, It is his Angel. 

More observations of this nature, and inferences 
from them, might be made to gain the relation a 
firmer belief : but I forbear, lest I, that intended to 
be but a relator, may be thought to be an engaged 
person for the proving what was related to me; 
and yet I think myself bound to declare, that though 
it was not told me by Mr.' Donne himself, it was 
told me — now long since — by a Person of Honour, 
and of such intimacy with him, that he knew more 
of the secrets of his soul, than any person then liv- 
ing : and I think he told me the truth ; for it was 
told with such circumstances, and such asseveration, 
that — to say nothing of my own thoughts — I verily 
believe he that told it me, did himself believe it to 
be true. 

I forbear the Reader's farther trouble, as to the 
relation, and what concerns it ; and will conclude 
mine, with commending to his view a copy of verses 
given by Mr. Donne to his wife at the time he then 
parted from her. And I beg leave to tell, that I 
have heard some critics, learned both in Languages 
and Poetry, say, that none of the Greek or Latin 
Poets did ever equal them. 



28 THE LIFE OF 



A VALEDICTION, FORBIDDING TO MOURN, 

As virtuous men pass mildly away, 
And whisper to their souls, to go, 

Whilst some of their sad friends do say, 
The breath goes now, and some say, No ; 

So let us melt, and make no ?wise, 

No tear-floods, nor sigh tempests move ^ 

'Twere profanation of our joys, 
To tell the laity our love. 

Moving of iti earth, brings harms and f ears : 
Men reckon what it did or meant : 

But trepidation of the spheres, 
Though greater far, is innocent. 

Dull sublunary lovers' love 

——Whose soul is sense — cannot admit 

Absence, because that doth remove 
Those things which elemented it. 

But we, by a love so far refind, 
That ourselves know not what it is, 

Inter-assured of the mind, 

Care not hands, eyes, or lips to miss. 

Our two souls therefore, which are one, 
— Though I must go, — endure not yet 

A breach, but an expansion, 
Like gold to airy thinness beat. 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 29 

If we be two P we are two so 

As stiff twin-compasses are two : 
Thy soul, the fix 'd foot, makes no show 

To move, but does if th' other do. 

And though thine in the centre sit, 
Yet, when my other far does roam, 

Thine leans and hearkens after it, 
And grows erect as mine comes home. 

Such wilt thou be to me, who must, 
Like tli other foot, obliquely run : 

Thy firmness makes my circle just, 
And me to end where I begun. 

I return from my account of the Vision, to tell the 
Reader, that hothbeforeMr.Donne's going into France, 
at his being there, and after his return, many of the 
Nobility and others that were powerful at Court, 
were watchful and solicitous to the King for some 
secular employment for him. The King had for- 
merly both known and put a value upon his com- 
pany, and had also given him some hopes of a State- 
employment ; being always much pleased when Mr. 
Donne attended him, especially at his meals, where 
there were usually many deep discourses of general 
learning, and very often friendly disputes, or de- 
bates of Religion, betwixt his Majesty and those 
Divines, whose places required their attendance on 
him at those times : particularly the Dean of the 
Chapel, who then was Bishop Montague — the pub- 



30 THE LIFE OF 

lisher of the learned and eloquent Works of his 
Majesty — and the most Reverend Doctor Andrews, 
the late learned Bishop of Winchester 3 who was then 
the King's Almoner. 

About this time there grew many disputes, that 
concerned the Oath of Supremacy and Allegiance, in 
which the King had appeared, and engaged him- 
self by his public writings now extant : and his 
Majesty discoursing with Mr. Donne, concerning 
many of the reasons which are usually urged against 
the taking of those Oaths, apprehended such a 
validity and clearness in his stating the questions, 
and his answers to them, that his Majesty com- 
manded him to bestow some time in drawing the 
arguments into a method, and then to write his 
answers to them > and, having done that, not to 
send, but be his own messenger, and bring them 
to him. To this he presently and diligently applied 
himself, and within six weeks brought them to him 
under his own hand writing, as they be now printed ; 
the book bearing the name of Pseudo-Martyr, printed 
anno 1610. 

When the King had read and considered that 
book, he persuaded Mr. Donne to enter into the 
Ministry 5 to which, at that time, he was, and ap- 
peared, very unwilling, apprehending it — such was 
his mistaken modesty — to be too weighty for his 
abilities : and though his Majesty had promised him 
a favour, and many persons of worth mediated with 
his Majesty for some secular employment for him, — 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 31 

to which his education had apted him — and par- 
ticularly the Earl of Somerset, when in his greatest 
height of favour ; who being then at Theobald's 




with the King, where one of the Clerks of the 
Council died that night, the Earl posted a messenger 
for Mr. Donne to come to him immediately, and at 
Mr. Donne s coming, said, Mr. Donne, to testify the 
reality of my affection, and my purpose to prefer you, 
stay in this garden till I go up to the King, and bring 
you word that you are Clerk of the Council: doubt 
not my doing this, for I know the King loves you, and 
know the King will not deny me. But the King gave 
a positive denial to all requests, and, having a dis- 
cerning spirit, replied, I know Mr. Donne is a learned 
man, has the abilities of a learned Divine, and will 
prove a powerful preacher ; and my desire is to prefer 



32 THE LIFE OF 

him that way, and in that way I will deny you nothing 
for him. After that time, as he profess- 
ofD ? ook efc h, * the King descended to a persuasion, 
almost to a solicitation, of him to enter 
into sacred Orders: which, though he then denied not, 
yet he deferred it for almost three years. All which 
time he applied himself to an incessant study of 
Textual Divinity, and to the attainment of a greater 
perfection in the learned languages, Greek and 
Hebrew. 

In the first and most blessed times of Christianity, 
when the Clergy were looked upon with reverence, 
and deserved it, when they overcame their opposers 
by high examples of virtue, by a blessed patience 
and long-suffering, those only were then judged 
worthy the Ministry, whose quiet and meek spirits 
did make them look upon that sacred calling with 
an humble adoration and fear to undertake it $ which 
indeed requires such great degrees of humility, and 
labour, and care, that none but such were then 
thought worthy of that celestial dignity. And such 
only were then sought out, and solicited to under- 
take it. This I have mentioned, because forward- 
ness and inconsideration, could not, in Mr. Donne, 
as in many others, be an argument of insufficiency 
or unfitness j for he had considered long, and had 
many strifes within himself concerning the strict- 
ness of life, and competency of learning, required in 
such as enter into sacred Orders - 3 and doubtless, 
considering his own demerits, did humbly ask God 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 33 

with St. Paul, Lord, who is sufficient for these things ? 
and with meek Moses, Lord, who am I? And sure, 
if he had consulted with flesh and blood, he had 
not for these reasons put his hand to that holy 
plough. But God, who is able to prevail, wrestled 
with him, as the Angel did with Jacob, and marked 
him • marked him for his own j marked him with a 
blessing, a blessing of obedience to the motions of 
his blessed Spirit. And then, as he had formerly- 
asked God with Moses, Who am I? so now, being 
inspired with an apprehension of God's particular 
mercy to him, in the King's and others solicitations 
of him, he came to ask King David's thankful ques- 
tion, Lord, who am I, that thou art so mindful of me ? 
So mindful of me, as to lead me for more than forty 
years through this wilderness of the many tempta- 
tions and various turnings of a dangerous life : so 
merciful to me, as to move the learnedest of Kings 
to descend to move me to serve at the altar ! So 
merciful to me, as at last to move my heart to em- 
brace this holy motion ! Thy motions I will and do 
embrace : and I now say with the blessed Virgin, 
Be it with thy servant as seemeth best in thy sight : and 
so, Blessed Jesus, I do take the Cup of Salvation, and 
will call upon thy Name, and will preach thy Gospel. 
Such strifes as these St. Austin had, when St. 
Ambrose endeavoured his conversion to Christianity ; 
with which he confesseth he acquainted his friend 
Alipius. Our learned author, — a man fit to write 
after no mean copy — did the like. And declaring 

F 



34 THE LIFE OF 

his intentions to his dear friend Dr. King, then 
Bishop of London, a man famous in his generation, 
and no stranger to Mr. Donne s abilities, — for he 
had been Chaplain to the Lord Chancellor, at the 
time of Mr. Donne s being his Lordship's Secretary — 
that reverend man did receive the news with much 
gladness 3 and, after some expressions of joy, and a 
persuasion to be constant in his pious purpose, he 
proceeded with all convenient speed to ordain him 
first Deacon, and then Priest not long after. 

Now the English Church had gained a second St. 
Austin ,• for I think none was so like him before his 
conversion, none so like St. Ambrose after it : and 
if his youth had the infirmities of the one, his age 
had the excellencies of the other 5 the learning and 
holiness of both. 

And now all his studies which had been occasion- 
ally diffused, were all concentered in Divinity. Now 
he had a new calling, new thoughts, and a new em- 
ployment for his wit and eloquence. Now, all his 
earthly affections were changed into divine love ; 
and all the faculties of his own soul were engaged 
in the conversion of others ; in preaching the glad 
tidings of remission to repenting sinners, and peace 
to each troubled soul. To these he applied himself 
with all care and diligence : and now such a change 
was wrought in him, that he could say with David, 
O how amiable are thy Tabernacles, O Lord God of 
Hosts ! Now he declared openly, that when he required 
a temporal, God gave him a spiritual blessing. And 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 35 

that he was now gladder to be a door-keeper in the House 
of God, than he could be to enjoy the noblest of all tem- 
poral employments. 

Presently after he entered into his holy profession, 
the King sent for him, and made him his Chaplain 
in Ordinary, and promised to take a particular care 
for his preferment. 

And, though his long familiarity with scholars 
and persons of greatest quality, was such, as might 
have given some men boldness enough to have 
preached to any eminent auditory ; yet his modesty 
in this employment was such, that he could not be 
persuaded to it, but went usually accompanied with 
some one friend to preach privately in some village, 
not far from London- his first Sermon being preached 
at Paddington. This he did, till his Majesty sent 
and appointed him a day to preach to him at White- 
hall • and, though much were expected from him, 
both by his Majesty and others, yet he was so happy 
— which few are — as to satisfy and exceed their ex- 
pectations : preaching the Word so, as shewed his 
own heart was possessed with those very thoughts 
and joys that he laboured to distil into others : a 
preacher in earnest ; weeping sometimes for his 
auditory, sometimes with them 5 always preaching 
to himself, like an Angel from a cloud, but in none 5 
carrying some, as St. Paul was, to Heaven in holy 
raptures, and enticing others by a sacred art and 
courtship to amend their lives : here picturing a Vice 
so as to make it ugly to those that practised it 5 and 



36 THE LIFE OF 

a Virtue so as to make it beloved, even by those 
that loved it not -, and all this with a most particular 
grace and an unexpressible addition of comeliness. 

There may be some that may incline to think — 
such indeed as have not heard him — that my affec- 
tion to my friend hath transported me to an im- 
moderate commendation of his preaching. If this 
meets with any such, let me entreat, though I will 
omit many, yet that they will receive a double wit- 
ness for what I say 5 it being attested by a gentle- 
man of worth, — Mr. Chidley, a frequent hearer of 
his Sermons — in part of a Funeral Elegy writ by 
him on Dr. Donne ; and is a known truth, though it 
be in verse. 

Each altar had his Jive 

He kept his love, but not his object ; wit 

He did not banish, but transplanted it; 

Taught it both time and place, and brought it liome 

To piety, which it doth best become. 
****** 

For say, had ever pleasure such a dress ? 

Have you seen crimes so shap'd, or loveliness 

Such as his lips did clothe Religion in ? 

Had not reproof a beauty passing Sin ? 

Corrupted Nature sorrow 'd that she stood 

So near the danger of becoming good. 

And, when he preaclid, she wish*d her ears exempt 

From piety, that had such powW to tempt. 

How did his sacred flattery beguile 

Men to amend ?•— — 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 37 

More of this, and more witnesses, might be brought; 
but I forbear and return. 

That Summer, in the very same month in which 
he entered into sacred Orders, and was made the 
Kings Chaplain, his Majesty then going his Progress, 
was entreated to receive an entertainment in the 
University of Cambridge : and Mr. Donne attending 
his Majesty at that time, his Majesty was pleased to 
recommend him to the University, to be made 
Doctor in Divinity : Doctor Harsnett — after Arch- 
bishop of York — was then Vice- Chancellor, who, 
knowing him to be the author of that learned book 
the Pseudo-Martyr, required no other proof of his 
abilities, but proposed it to the University, who 
presently assented, and expressed a gladness, that 
they had such an occasion to entitle him to be 
their' s. 

His abilities and industry in his profession were 
so eminent, and he so known and so beloved by 
persons of quality, that within the first year of his 
entering into sacred Orders, he had fourteen advow- 
sons of several benefices presented to him : but they 
were in the country, and he could not leave his 
beloved London, to which place he had a natural 
inclination, having received both his birth and edu- 
cation in it, and there contracted a friendship with 
many, whose conversation multiplied the joys of his 
life : but an employment that might affix him to 
that place would be welcome, for he needed it. 

Immediately after his return from Cambridge, his 



38 THE LIFE OF 

wife died, leaving him a man of a narrow, unsettled 
estate, and — having buried five- — the careful father 
of seven children then living, to whom he gave a 
voluntary assurance, never to bring them under the 
subjection of a step-mother ; which promise he kept 
most faithfully, burying with his tears, all his earthly 
joys in his most dear and deserving wife's grave, 
and betook himself to a most retired and solitary 
life. 

In this retiredness, which was often from the 
sight of his dearest friends, he became crucified to 
the world, and all those vanities, those imaginary 
pleasures, that are daily acted on that restless stage ; 
and they were as perfectly crucified to him. Nor 
is it hard to think — being, passions may be both 
changed and heightened by accidents — but that that 
abundant affection which once was betwixt him and 
her, who had long been the delight of his eyes, and 
the companion of his youth ; her, with whom he 
had divided so many pleasant sorrows and contented 
fears, as common people are not capable of ; — not 
hard to think but that she being now removed by 
death, a commeasurable grief took as full a posses- 
sion of him as joy had done ; and so indeed it did ; 
for now his very soul was elemented of nothing but 
sadness j now grief took so full a possession of his 
heart, as to leave no place for joy : If it did, it was 
a joy to be alone, where, like a pelican in the wil- 
derness, he might bemoan himself without witness or 
restraint, and pour forth his passions like Job in the 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 39 

days of his affliction : Oh that I might have the desire 
of my heart ! Oh that God would grant the thing that I 
long for ! For then, as the grave is become her house, 
so I would hasten to make it mine also ; that we two 
might there make our beds together in the dark. Thus, 
as the Israelites sat mourning by the rivers of Baby- 
lon, when they remembered Sion • so he gave some 
ease to his oppressed heart by thus venting his sor- 
rows : thus he began the day, and ended the night 5 
ended the restless night and began the weary day 
in lamentations. And thus he continued, till a con- 
sideration of his new engagements to God, and St. 
Paul's. — Woe is me, if I preach not the Gospel ! dis- 
persed those sad clouds that had then benighted his 
hopes, and now forced him to behold the light. 

His first motion from his house, was to preach 
where his beloved wife lay buried, — in St. Clement's 
Church, near Temple Bar, London, — and his text 
was a part of the Prophet Jeremy's Lamentation : 
Lo, I am the Man that have seen affliction. 

And indeed his very words and looks testified him 
to be truly such a man ; and they, with the addition 
of his sighs and tears, expressed in his Sermon, did 
so work upon the affections of his hearers, as melted 
and moulded them into a companionable sadness j 
and so they left the congregation ; but then their 
houses presented them with objects of diversion, 
and his presented him with nothing but fresh objects 
of sorrow, in beholding many helpless children, a 



40 THE LIFE OF 

narrow fortune, and a consideration of the many 
cares and casualties that attend their education. 

In this time of sadness he was importuned by 
the grave Benchers of Lincoln s Inn — who were once 
the companions and friends of his youth — to accept 
of their Lecture, which, by reason of Dr. Gatakers 
removal from thence, was then void 5 of which he 
accepted, being most glad to renew his intermitted 
friendship with those whom he so much loved, and 
where he had been a Saul, — though not to persecute 
Christianity, or to deride it, yet in his irregular 
youth to neglect the visible practice of it, — there to 
become a Paul, and preach salvation to his beloved 
brethren. 

And now his life was as a shining light among his 
old friends : now he gave an ocular testimony of 
the strictness and regularity of it : now he might 
say, as St. Paul adviseth his Corinthians, Be ye fol- 
lowers of me, as I follow Christ, and walk as ye have me 
for an example ; not the example of a busy body, but 
of a contemplative, a harmless, an humble, and an 
holy life and conversation. 

The love of that noble Society was expressed to 
him many ways 5 for, besides fair lodgings that were 
set apart, and newly furnished for him with all ne- 
cessaries, other courtesies were also daily added; 
indeed so many, and so freely, as if they meant 
their gratitude should exceed his merits : and in 
this love-strife of desert and liberality, they con- 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 41 

tinued for the space of two years, he preaching 
faithfully and constantly to them, and they liberally 
requiting him. About which time the Emperor of 
Germany died, and the Palsgrave, who had lately 
married the Lady Elizabeth, the King's only daugh- 
ter, was elected and crowned King of Bohemia, the 
unhappy beginning of many miseries in that nation. 

King James, whose motto — Beati pacifici — did 
truly speak the very thoughts of his heart, endea- 
voured first to prevent, and after to compose, the 
discords of that discomposed State ; and, amongst 
other his endeavours, did then send the Lord Hay, 
Earl of Doncaster, his Ambassador to those unset- 
tled Princes ; and, by a special command from his 
Majesty, Dr. Donne was appointed to assist and 
attend that employment to the Princes of the Union j 
for which the Earl was most glad, who had always 
put a great value on him, and taken a great plea- 
sure in his conversation and discourse : and his 
friends at Lincoln's Inn were as glad ; for they feared 
that his immoderate study, and sadness for his wife's 
death, would, as Jacob said, make his days few, and, 
respecting his bodily health, evil too 5 and of this 
there were many visible signs. 

At his going, he left his friends of Lincoln s Inn, 
and they him, with many reluctations : for, though 
he could not say as St. Paul to his Ephesians, Behold, 
you, to whom I have preached the Kingdom of God, 
shall from henceforth see my face no more ; yet he, be- 
lieving himself to be in a Consumption, questioned, 



42 



THE LIFE OF 



and they feared it : all concluding that his troubled 
mind, with the help of his unintermitted studies, 
hastened the decays of his weak body. But God, 
who is the God of all wisdom and goodness, turned it 
to the best ; for this employment — to say nothing of 
the event of it — did not only divert him from those 
too serious studies and sad thoughts, but seemed 
to give him a new life, by a true occasion of joy, to 
be an eye witness of the health of his most dear 
and most honoured mistress, the Queen of Bohemia, 




in a foreign nation 5 and to be a witness of that 
gladness which she expressed to see him : who, 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 43 

having formerly known him a courtier, was much 
joyed to see him in a canonical habit, and more glad 
to be an ear-witness of his excellent and powerful 
preaching. 

About fourteen months after his departure out of 
England, he returned to his friends of Lincoln s Inn, 
with his sorrows moderated, and his health im- 
proved ; and there betook himself to his constant 
course of preaching. 

About a year after his return out of Germany, Dr. 
Carey was made Bishop of Exeter, and by his re- 
moval the Deanery of St. Paul's being vacant, the 
King sent to Dr. Donne, and appointed him to at- 
tend him at dinner the next day. When his Ma- 
jesty was sat down, before he had eat any meat, he 
said after his pleasant manner, Dr. Donne, I have 
invited you to dinner; and, though you sit not down 
with me, yet I will carve to you of a dish that I know 
you love well; for, knowing you love London, I do 
therefore make you Dean of Paul's; and, when I have 
dined, then do you take your beloved dish home to your 
study, say grace there to yourself, and much good may 
it do you. 

Immediately after he came to his Deanery, he 
employed workmen to repair and beautify the Cha- 
pel; suffering, as holy David once vowed, his eyes 
and temples to take no rest, till he had first beautified 
the house of God. 

The next quarter following, when his father-in- 
law, Sir George More, — whom time had made a 



44 THE LIFE OF 

lover and admirer of him — came to pay to him the 
conditioned sum of twenty pounds, he refused to 
receive it ; and said — as good Jacob did, when he 
heard his beloved son Joseph was alive, It is enough. — 
You have been kind to me and mine : I know your 
present condition is such as not to abound, and I 
hope mine is, or will be such as not to need it : I 
will therefore receive no more from you upon that 
contract ; and in testimony of it freely gave him up 
his bond. 

Immediately after his admission into his Deanery, 
the Vicarage of St. Dunstan in the West, London, 
fell to him by the death of Dr. White, the advowson 
of it having been given to him long before by his 
honourable friend Richard Earl of Dorset, then the 
patron, and confirmed by his brother the late de- 
ceased Edward, both of them men of much honour. 

By these, and another ecclesiastical endowment 
which fell to him about the same time, given to him 
formerly by the Earl of Kent, he was enabled to 
become charitable to the poor, and kind to his 
friends, and to make such provision for his children, 
that they were not left scandalous, as relating to 
their, or his profession and quality. 

The next Parliament, which was within that pre- 
sent year, he was chosen Prolocutor to the Convo- 
cation, and about that time was appointed by his 
Majesty, his most gracious master, to preach very 
many occasional Sermons, as at St. Paul's Cross, 
and other places. All which employments he per- 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 45 

formed to the admiration of the representative body 
of the whole Clergy of this nation. 

He was once, and but once, clouded with the 
King's displeasure, and it was about this time ; 
which was occasioned by some malicious whisperer, 
who had told his Majesty that Dr. Donne had put on 
the general humour of the pulpits, and was become 
busy in insinuating a fear of the King's inclining 
to Popery, and a dislike of his government ; and 
particularly for the King's then turning the Evening 
Lectures into Catechising, and expounding the Prayer 
of our Lord, and of the Belief, and Commandments. 
His Majesty was the more inclinable to believe this, 
for that a person of Nobility and great note, betwixt 
whom and Dr. Donne there had been a great friend- 
ship, was at this very time discarded the Court — I 
shall forbear his name, unless I had a fairer occa- 
sion — and justly committed to prison ; which begot 
many rumours in the common people, who in this 
nation think they are not wise, unless they be busy 
about what they understand not, and especially about 
Religion. 

The King received this news with so much dis- 
content and restlessness, that he would not suffer 
the sun to set and leave him under this doubt ; but 
sent for Dr. Donne, and required his answer to the 
accusation; which was so clear and satisfactory, 
that the King said, he was right glad he rested no 
longer under the suspicion. When the King had said 



46 THE LIFE OF 

this, Doctor Donne kneeled down, and thanked his 
Majesty, and protested his answer was faithful, and 
free from all collusion, and therefore, desired that 
he might not rise, till, as in like cases, he always had 
from God, so he might have from his Majesty, some as- 
surance that he stood clear and fair in his opinion. At 
which the King raised him from his knees with his 
own hands, and protested he believed him -, and that he 
knew he was an honest man, and doubted not but that 
he loved him truly. And, having thus dismissed him, 
he called some Lords of his Council into his cham- 
ber, and said with much earnestness, My Doctor is 
an honest man ; and, my Lords, I was never better sa- 
tisfied with an answer than he hath now made me ; and 
I always rejoice when I think that by my means he be- 
came a Divine. 

He was made Dean in the fiftieth year of his age ; 
and in his fifty -fourth year, a dangerous sickness 
seized him, which inclined him to a Consumption : 
but God, as Job thankfully acknowledged, preserved 
his spirit, and kept his intellectuals as clear and per- 
fect, as when that sickness first seized his body ; 
but it continued long, and threatened him with 
death, which he dreaded not. 

In this distemper of body, his dear friend, Dr. 
Henry King, — then chief Residentiary of that church, 
and late Bishop of Chichester — a man generally 
known by the Clergy of this nation, and as generally 
noted for his obliging nature, visited him daily j and 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 47 

observing that his sickness rendered his recovery 
doubtful, he chose a seasonable time to speak to 
him to this purpose. 

" Mr. Dean, I am, by your favour, no stranger to 
" your temporal estate, and you are no stranger to 
" the offer lately made us, for the renewing a lease 
" of the best Prebend's corps belonging to our 
" church 3 and you know 'twas denied, for that our 
" tenant being very rich, offered to fine at so low a 
" rate as held not proportion with his advantages : 
" but I will either raise him to an higher sum, or 
" procure that the other Residentiaries shall join to 
" accept of what was offered : one of these, I can 
" and will by your favour do without delay, and 
" without any trouble either to your body or mind : 
" I beseech you to accept of my offer, for I know 
" it will be a considerable addition to your present 
" estate, which I know needs it." 

To this, after a short pause, and raising himself 
upon his bed, he made this reply : 

" My most dear friend, I most humbly thank you 
" for your many favours, and this in particular ; but 
" in my present condition I shall not accept of your 
" proposal ; for doubtless there is such a sin as 
" Sacrilege ; if there were not, it could not have a 
" name in Scripture : and the primitive Clergy were 
" watchful against all appearances of that evil -, and 
" indeed then all Christians looked upon it with 
" horror and detestation, judging it to be even an 
"■ open defiance of the Power and Providence of Almighty 



48 THE LIFE OF 

" God, and a sad presage of a declining Religion. But 
u instead of such Christians, who had selected times 
" set apart to fast and pray to God, for a pious 
" Clergy, which they then did obey, our times abound 
" with men that are busy and litigious about trifles 
" and Church-ceremonies, and yet so far from 
" scrupling Sacrilege, that they make not so much 
" as a qucere what it is : but I thank God I have ; 
" and dare not now upon my sick bed, when Al- 
" mighty God hath made me useless to the service 
(< of the Church, make any advantages out of it. 
" But if he shall again restore me to such a degree 
" of health, as again to serve at his altar, I shall 
" then gladly take the reward which the bountiful 
" benefactors of this church have designed me ; for 
" God knows my children and relations will need it. 
" In which number, my mother, — whose credulity 
" and charity has contracted a very plentiful to a 
" very narrow estate — must not be forgotten. But 
" Dr. King, if I recover not, that little worldly 
" estate that I shall leave behind me — that very 
" little, when divided into eight parts — must, if you 
" deny me not so charitable a favour, fall into your 
" hands, as my most faithful friend and Executor j 
" of whose care and justice I make no more doubt, 
" than of God's blessing, on that which I have con- 
" scientiously collected for them 5 but it shall not 
" be augmented on my sick-bed ; and this I declare 
" to be my unalterable resolution." 

The reply to this was only a promise to observe 
his request. 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 49 

Within a few days his distempers abated j and as 
his strength increased, so did his thankfulness to 
Almighty God, testified in his most excellent Book 
of Devotions, which he published at his recovery ; 
in which the reader may see the most secret thoughts 
that then possessed his soul, paraphrased and made 
public : a book, that may not unfitly be called a 
Sacred Picture of Spiritual Ecstasies, occasioned and 
appliable to the emergencies of that sickness 5 which 
book, being a composition of Meditations, Disquisi- 
tions, and Prayers, he writ on his sick bed j herein 
imitating the holy Patriarchs, who were wont to 
build their altars in that place where they had re- 
ceived their blessings. 

This sickness brought him so near to the gates of 
death, and he saw the grave so ready to devour him, 
that he would often say, his recovery was superna- 
tural : but that God that then restored his health, 
continued it to him till the fifty-ninth year of his 
life : and then, in August 1630, being with his eldest 
daughter, Mrs. Harvey, at Abury Hatch, in Essex, he 
there fell into a fever, which, with the help of his 
constant infirmity — vapours from the spleen— hast- 
ened him into so visible a Consumption, that his 
beholders might say, as St. Paul of himself, He dies 
daily ; and he might say with Job, My welfare pas- 
seth away as a cloud, the days of my affliction have 
taken hold of me, and weary nights are appointed 
for me. 

H 



50 THE LIFE OF 

Reader, This sickness continued long, not only weaken- 
ing, but wearying him so much, that my desire is, he 
may now take some rest ; and that before I speak of his 
death, thou wilt not think it an impertinent digression to 
look back with me upon some observations of his life, 
wMch, whilst a gentle slumber gives rest to his spirits, 
may, I hope, not unfitly exercise thy consideration. 

His marriage was the remarkable error of his 
life j an error, which, though he had a wit able and 
very apt to maintain paradoxes, yet he was very far 
from justifying it : and though his wife's competent 
years, and other reasons, might be justly urged to 
moderate severe censures, yet he would occasionally 
condemn himself for it : and doubtless it had been 
attended with an heavy repentance, if God had not 
blessed them with so mutual and cordial affections, 
as in the midst of their sufferings made their bread 
of sorrow taste more pleasantly, than the banquets 
of dull and low-spirited people. 

The recreations of his youth were Poetry, in which 
he was so happy, as if Nature and all her varieties 
had been made only to exercise his sharp wit and 
high fancy^ and in those pieces which were face- 
tiously composed and carelessly scattered, — most of 
them being written before the twentieth year of his 
age — it may appear by his choice metaphors, that 
both Nature and all the Arts joined to assist him 
with their utmost skill. 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 51 

It is a truth, that in his penitential years, viewing 
some of those pieces that had been loosely — God 
knows, too loosely — scattered in his youth, he wished 
they had been abortive, or so short-lived that his 
own eyes had witnessed their funerals : but, though 
he was no friend to them, he was not so fallen out 
with heavenly Poetry, as to forsake that j no, not in 
his declining age ; witnessed then by many divine 
Sonnets, and other high, holy, and harmonious com- 
posures. Yea, even on his former sick-bed he wrote 
this heavenly Hymn, expressing the great joy that 
then possessed his soul, in the assurance of God's 
favour to him when he composed it : 

AN HYMN 

TO GOD THE FATHER. 

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun, 

Which was my sin, though it were done before ? 

Wilt thou forgive that sin through which I run, 
And do run still, though still I do deplore ? 

When thou hast done, thou hast not done, 

For I have more. 

Wilt thou forgive that sin, which I have won 
Others to sin, and made my sin their door ? 

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun 
A year or two ,- — but wallow 'd in a score ? 

When thou hast done, thou hast not done, 

For I have more. 



52 THE LIFE OF 

I have a sin of fear, that when I've spun 
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ; 

But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son 
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore ; 

And having done that, thou hast done, 

I fear no more. 

I have the rather mentioned this Hymn, for that 
he caused it to be set to a most grave and solemn 
tune, and to be often sung to the Organ by the Cho- 
risters of St. Paul's Church, in his own hearing ; 
especially at the Evening Service j and at his return 
from his customary devotions in that place, did oc- 
casionally say to a friend^ The words of this Hymn 
have restored to me the same thoughts of joy that pos- 
sessed my soul in my sickness, when I composed it. And, 
the power of Church-music ! that harmony added to 
this Hymn has raised the affections of my heart, and 
quickened my graces of zeal and gratitude ; and I ob- 
serve that I always return from paying this public duty 
of Prayer and Praise to God, with an unexpressible 
tranquillity of mind, and a willingness to leave the 
world. 

After this manner did the Disciples of our Saviour, 
and the best of Christians in those ages of the Church 
nearest to his time, offer their praises to Almighty 
God. And the reader of SL Augustine's life may 
there find, that towards his dissolution he wept 
abundantly, that the enemies of Christianity had 
broke in upon them, and profaned and ruined their 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 53 

Sanctuaries, and because their Public Hymns and 
Lauds were lost out of their Churches. And after 
this manner have many devout souls lifted up their 
hands, and offered acceptable sacrifices unto Al- 
mighty God, where Dr. Donne offered his, and now 
lies buried. 

But now. Oh Lord ! how is that place 
become desolate ! 

Before I proceed further, I think fit to inform the 
Reader, that not long before his death he caused to 
be drawn a figure of the body of Christ extended 
upon an Anchor, like those which painters draw, 
when they would present us with the picture of 
Christ crucified on the Cross : his varying no other- 
wise, than to affix him not to a Cross, but to an 
Anchor — the emblem of Hope; — this he caused to 
be drawn in little, and then many of those figures 
thus drawn to be engraven very small in Helitro- 
pium stones, and set in gold 5 and of these he sent to 
many of his deareast friends, to be used as seals, or 
rings, and kept as memorials of him, and of his affec- 
tion to them. 

His dear friends and benefactors, Sir Henry 
Goodier, and Sir Robert Drewry, could not be of that 
number ; nor could the Lady Magdalen Herbert, the 
mother of George Herbert, for they had put off mor- 
tality, and taken possession of the grave before him : 
but Sir Henry, Wotton, and Dr. Hall, the then late 
deceased Bishop of Norwich, were ; and so were 
Dr. Duppa, Bishop of Salisbury, and Dr. Henry King, 



54 THE LIFE OF 

Bishop of Chichester — lately deceased— men, in 
whom there was such a commixture of general 
Learning, of natural Eloquence, and Christian Humility, 
that they deserve a commemoration by a pen equal 
to their own, which none have exceeded. 

And in this enumeration of his friends, though 
many must be omitted, yet that man of primitive 
piety, Mr. George Herbert, may not : I mean that 
George Herbert, who was the author of The Temple^ 
or Sacred Poems and Ejaculations. A book, in which 
by declaring his own spiritual conflicts, he hath 
comforted and raised many a dejected and discom- 
posed soul, and charmed them into sweet and quiet 
thoughts : a book, by the frequent reading whereof, 
and the assistance of that Spirit that seemed to in- 
spire the Author, the Reader may attain habits of 
Peace and Piety, and all the gifts of the Holy Ghost 
and Heaven: and may, by still reading, still keep 
those sacred fires burning upon the altar of so pure 
a heart, as shall free it from the anxieties of this 
world, and keep it fixed upon things that are above. 
Betwixt this George Herbert and Dr. Donne, there 
was a long and dear friendship, made up by such a 
sympathy of inclinations, that they coveted and 
joyed to be in each other's company j and this happy 
friendship was still maintained by many sacred en- 
dearments 5 of which that which followeth may be 
some testimony. 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 55 

TO MR. GEORGE HERBERT ; 

SENT HIM WITH ONE OF MY SEALS OF THE ANCHOR 
AND CHRIST. 

A Sheaf of Snakes used heretofore to be my Seal, which 
is the Crest of oar poor family. 

Qui prius assuetus serpentum falce tabellas 

Signare, haec nostrse symbola parva domus, 
Adscitus domui Domini — 

Adopted in God's family, and so 

My old Coat lost, into new Arms I go. 

The Cross, my Seal in Baptism, spread below, 

Does by that form into an Anchor grow. 

Crosses grow Anchors, bear as thou shouldst do 

Thy Cross, and that Cross grows an Anchor too. 

But he that makes our Crosses Anchors thus, 

Is Christ, who there is crucified for us. 

Yet with this I may my first Serpents hold; 

— God gives new blessings, and yet leaves the old — 

The Serpent, may, as wise, my pattern be ; 

My poison, as he feeds on dust, that's me. 

And, as he rounds the earth to murder, sure 

He is my death ; but on the Cross, my cure. 

Crucify nature then ; and then implore 

All grace from him, crucified there before. 

When all is Cross, and that Cross Anchor grown, 

This Seats a Catechism, not a Seal alone. 

Under that little Seal great gifts I send, 

Both works and pray rs, pawns and fruits of a friend. 



56 THE LIFE OF 

O ! may that Saint that rides on our Great Seal, 
To you that bear his name, large bounty deal. 

John Donne. 



IN SACRAM ANCHORAM PISCATORIS 

GEORGE HERBERT. 

Quod Crux nequibat fixa clavique additi, 
— Tenere Christum scilicet ne ascenderet, — 
Tuive Christum 

Although the Cross could not Christ here detain, 

When naiVd untot, but he ascends again ; 

Nor yet thy eloquence here keep him still, 

But only whilst thou speak' st — this Anchor will : 

Nor canst thou be content, unless thou to 

This certain Anchor add a Seal, and so 

The water and the earth both unto thee 

Do owe the symbol of their certainty. 

Let the world reel, we and all ours stand sure, 

This holy cable's from all storms secure. 

George Herbert. 

I return to tell the reader, that, besides these 
verses to his dear Mr. Herbert, and that Hymn that 
I mentioned to be sung in the Choir of St. PauVs 
Church, he did also shorten and beguile many sad 
hours by composing other sacred ditties ; and he 
writ an Hymn on his death-bed,, which bears this 
title : 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 57 

AN HYMN TO GOD, MY GOD, IN MY SICKNESS. 
March 23, 1630. 

Since I am coming to that holy room, 

Where, with thy Choir of Saints, for evermore 

I shall be made thy music, as I come 
I tune my instrument here at the door, 
And, what I must do then, think here before. 

Since my Physicians by their loves are grown 
Cosmographers ; and I their map, who lye 
Flat on this bed 



So, in his purple wrapt, receive me, Lord ! 
By these his thorns, give me his other crown : 

And, as to other souls I preactid thy word, 
Be this my text, my sermon to mine own, 
" That he may raise, therefore the Lord throws down," 

If these fall under the censure of a soul, whose 
too much mixture with earth makes it unfit to judge 
of these high raptures and illuminations, let him 
know, that many holy and devout men have thought 
the soul of Prudentius to be most refined, when, not 
many days before his death, he charged it to present his 
God each morning and evening with a new and spiritual 
song ,• justified by the example of King David and 
the good King Hezekiah, who, upon the renovation 
of his years paid his thankful vows to Almighty God 



58 THE LIFE OF 

in a royal hymn, which he concludes in these words j 
The Lord was ready to save ; therefore I will sing my 
songs to the stringed instruments all the days of my life 
in the Temple of my God. 

The latter part of his life may be said to be a 
continued study ; for as he usually preached once a 
week, if not oftener, so after his Sermon he never 
gave his eyes rest, till he had chosen out a new 
Text, and that night cast his Sermon into a form, 
and his Text into divisions ; and the next day be- 
took himself to consult the Fathers, and so commit 
his meditations to his memory, which was excellent. 
But upon Saturday he usually gave himself and his 
mind a rest from the weary burthen of his week's 
meditations, and usually spent that day in visitation 
of friends, or some other diversions of his thoughts j 
and would say, that he gave both his body and mind 
that refreshment, that he might be enabled to do the 
work of the day following, not faintly, but with courage 
and cheerfulness. 

Nor was his age only so industrious, but in the 
most unsettled days of his youth, his bed was not 
able to detain him beyond the hour of four in a 
morning ; and it was no common business that drew 
him out of his chamber till past ten : all which time 
was employed in study j though he took great li- 
berty after it. And if this seem strange, it may 
gain a belief by the visible fruits of his labours $ 
some of which remain as testimonies of what is here 
written : for he left the resistance of 1400 Authors, 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 59 

most of them abridged and analysed with his own 
hand : he left also six score of his Sermons, all 
written with his own hand -, also an exact and la- 
borious Treatise concerning Self-murder, called Bia- 
thanatos; wherein all the Laws violated by that act 
are diligently surveyed, and judiciously censured : a 
Treatise written in his younger days, which alone 
might declare him then not only perfect in the Civil 
and Canon Laiv, but in many other such studies and 
arguments, as enter not into the consideration of 
many that labour to be thought great clerks, and 
pretend to know all things. 

Nor were these only found in his study, but all 
businesses that passed of any public consequence, 
either in this or any of our neighbour-nations, he 
abbreviated either in Latin, or in the language of 
that nation, and kept them by him for useful memo- 
rials. So he did the copies of divers Letters and 
Cases of Conscience that had concerned his friends, 
with his observations and solutions of them ; and 
divers other businesses of importance, all particu- 
larly and methodically digested by himself. 

He did prepare to leave the world before life left 
him ; making his Will when no faculty of his soul 
was damped or made defective by pain or sickness, 
or he surprised by a sudden apprehension of death : 
but it was made with mature deliberation, express- 
ing himself an impartial father, by making his chil- 
dren's portions equal ; and a lover of his friends, 
whom he remembered with legacies fitly and dis- 



60 



THE LIFE OF 



creetly chosen and bequeathed. I cannot forbear 
a nomination of some of them ; for methinks they 
be persons that seem to challenge a recordation 
in this place 5 as namely, to his Brother-in-law, 
Sir Thomas Grimes, he gave that striking clock, 
which he had long worn in his pocket ; to his dear 
friend and executor, Dr. King, — late Bishop of Chi- 
chester— that Model of Gold of the Synod of Dort, 




with which the States presented him at his last 
being at the Hague ; and the two pictures of *Padre 
Paolo and Fulgentio, men of his acquaintance when 
he travelled Italy, and of great note in that nation 
for their remarkable learning. — To his ancient friend 
Dr. Brook, — that married him — Master of Trinity 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 61 

College in Cambridge, he gave the picture of the 
Blessed Virgin and Joseph. — To Dr. Winniff — who 
succeeded him in the Deanery — he gave a picture 
called the Skeleton. — To the succeeding Dean, who 
was not then known, he gave many necessaries of 
worth, and useful for his house ; and also several 
pictures and ornaments for the Chapel, with a desire 
that they might be registered, and remain as a le- 
gacy to his successors. — To the Earls of Dorset 
and Carlisle he gave several pictures -, and so he did 
to many other friends ; legacies, given rather to ex- 
press his affection, than to make any addition to 
their estates : but unto the poor he was full of 
charity, and unto many others, who, by his constant 
and long continued bounty, might entitle themselves 
to be his alms -people : for all these he made provi- 
sion, and so largely, as, having then six children 
living, might to some appear more than proportion- 
able to his estate. I forbear to mention any more, 
lest the Reader may think I trespass upon his pa- 
tience : but I will beg his favour, to present him 
with the beginning and end of his Will. 

In the name of the blessed and glorious Trinity, Amen. 
I John Donne, by the mercy of Christ Jesus, and by 
the calling of the Church of England, Priest, being at 
this time in good health and perfect understanding, — 
praised be God therefore — do hereby make my last Will 
and Testament in manner and form following : 

First, I give my gracious God an entire sacrifice of 



62 THE LIFE OF 

body and soul, with my most humble thanks for that 
assurance which his blessed Spirit imprints in me now of 
the Salvation of the one, and the Resurrection of the 
other ; and for that constant and cheerful resolution, 
which the same Spirit hath established in me, to live and 
die in the Religion now professed in the Church of Eng- 
land. In expectation of that Resurrection, I desire my 
body may be buried — in the most private manner that 
may be — in that place of St. Paul's Church, London, 
that the now Residentiaries have at my request designed 

for that purpose, &c. And this my last Will and 

Testament, made in the fear of God, — whose mercy I 
humbly beg, and constantly rely upon in Jesus Christ — 
and in perfect love and charity with all the world — 
whose pardon I ask, from the lowest of my servants, to 
the highest of my superiors — written all with my own 
hand, and my name subscribed to every page, of which 
there are Jive in number. 

Sealed December 13, 1630. 

Nor was this blessed sacrifice of Charity expressed 
only at his death, but in his life also, by a cheerful 
and frequent visitation of any friend whose mind 
was dejected, or his fortune necessitous : he was 
inquisitive after the wants of prisoners, and redeemed 
many from prison, that lay for their fees or small 
debts : he was a continual giver to poor scholars, 
both of this and foreign nations. Besides what he 
gave with his own hand, he usually sent a servant, 
or a discreet and trusty friend, to distribute his cha- 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 63 

rity to all the Prisons in London, at all the festival 
times of the year, especially at the Birth and Resur- 
rection of our Saviour. He gave an hundred pounds 
at one time to an old friend, whom he had known 
live plentifully, and by a too liberal heart and care- 
lessness became decayed in his estate; and when 
the receiving of it was denied, by the gentleman's 
saying, He wanted not; — for the reader may note, 
that as there be some spirits so generous as to 
labour to conceal and endure a sad poverty, rather 
than expose themselves to those blushes that attend 
the confession of it ; so there be others, to whom 
Nature and Grace have afforded such sweet and com- 
passionate souls, as to pity and prevent the distresses 
of mankind j — which I have mentioned because of 
Dr. Donne s reply, whose answer was 5 I know you 
want not what will sustain nature ,• for a little will do 
that ; but my desire is, that you, who in the days of your 
plenty have cheered and raised the hearts of so many of 
your dejected friends, would now receive this from me, 
and use it as a cordial for the cheering of your own : 
and upon these terms it was received. He was an 
happy reconciler of many differences in the families 
of his friends and kindred, — which he never under- 
took faintly ; for such undertakings have usually faint 
effects — and they had such a faith in his judgment 
and impartiality, that he never advised them to any 
thing in vain. He was, even to her death, a most 
dutiful son to his Mother, careful to provide for her 
supportation, of which she had been destitute, but 



64 THE LIFE OF 

that God raised him up to prevent her necessities ; 
who, having sucked in the religion of the Roman 
Church with the mother's milk, spent her estate in 
foreign countries, to enjoy a liberty in it, and died 
in his house but three months before him. 

And to the end it may appear how just a steward 
he was of his Lord and Master's revenue, I have 
thought fit to let the reader know, that after his en- 
trance into his Deanery, as he numbered his years, 
he, — at the foot of a private account, to which God 
and his Angels were only witnesses with him, — com- 
puted first his revenue, then what was given to the 
poor, and other pious uses j and lastly, what rested 
for him and his ; and having done that, he then 
blessed each year's poor remainder with a thankful 
prayer ; which, for that they discover a more than 
common devotion, the Reader shall partake some of 
them in his own words : 

So all is that remains this year 



Deo Opt. Max. benigno largitori, a me, et ab iis 
quibus hcec a me reservantur, Gloria et gratia in ceter- 
num. Amen. 

Translated thus. 

To God all Good, all Great, the benevolent Be- 
stower, by me, and by them, for whom, by me, these 
sums are laid up, be Glory and Grace ascribed for 
ever. Amen. 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 65 

So that this year, God hath blessed me and mine 
with: — 

MultiplicatcB sunt super nos misericordice tuce, Domine. 

Translated thus. 
Thy mercies, Oh Lord ! are multiplied upon us. 

Da, Domine, ut qua ex immensd bonitate tud nobis 
elargiri dignatus sis, in quorumcunque manus devene- 
rint, in tuam semper cedant gloriam. Amen. 

Translated thus. 
Grant, Oh Lord ! that what out of thine infinite 
bounty Thou hast vouchsafed to lavish upon us, 
into whosesover hands it may devolve, may always 
be improved to thy glory. Amen. 

In fine horum sex annorum manet : 

Quid habeo quod non accepi a Domino ? Largitur 
etiam ut qu<e largitus est sua iterum fiant, bono eorum 
usu ; ut quemadmodum nee officiis hujus mundi, nee 
loci in quo me posuit dignitati, nee servis, nee egenis, in 
toto hujus anni curriculo mihi conscius sum me defuisse ; 
ita et liberi, quibus quce supersunt, supersunt, grato 
animo ea accipiant, et beneficum authorem recognos- 
cant. Amen. 

Translated thus. 
At the end of these six years remains : — 
What have I, which I have not received from the 
Lord ? He bestows, also, to the intent that what he 



66 TliE LIFE OF 

hath bestowed may revert to Him by the proper use 
of it : that, as I have not consciously been wanting 
to myself during the whole course of the past year, 
either in discharging my secular duties, in retain- 
ing the dignity of my station, or in my conduct 
towards my servants and the poor, — so my chil- 
dren, for whom remains whatever is remaining, may 
receive it with gratitude, and acknowledge the 
beneficent Giver. Amen. 

But I return from my long digression. 

We left the Author sick in Essex, where he was 
forced to spend much of that Winter, by reason of 
his disability to remove from that place 5 and hav- 
ing never, for almost twenty years, omitted his per- 
sonal attendance on His Majesty in that month, in 
which he was to attend and preach to him j nor 
having ever been left out of the roll and number of 
Lent Preachers, and there being then — in January, 
1630, — a report brought to London, or raised there, 
that Dr. Donne was dead; that report gave him 
occasion to write the following letter to a dear 
friend : 
Sir, 

" This advantage you and my other friends 
" have by my frequent fevers, that I am so much 
" the oftener at the gates of Heaven 3 and this ad- 
" vantage by the solitude and close imprisonment 
<( that they reduce me to after, that I am so much 
" the oftener at my prayers, in which I shall never 
" leave out your happiness 5 and 1 doubt not, among 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 67 

" his other blessings, God will add some one to you 
" for my prayers. A man would almost be con- 
" tent to die, — if there were no other benefit in 
" death, — to hear of so much sorrow, and so much 
" good testimony from good men, as I, — God be 
" blessed for it — did upon the report of my death : 
" yet I perceive it went not through all ; for one 
* writ to me, that some, — and he said of my friends, 
<( — conceived I was not so ill as I pretended, but 
" withdrew myself to live at ease, discharged of 
" preaching. It is an unfriendly, and, God knows, 
" an ill-grounded interpretation ; for I have always 
" been sorrier when I could not preach, than any 
" could be they could not hear me. It hath been 
" my desire, and God may be pleased to grant it, 
" that I might die in the pulpit ; if not that, yet 
" that I might take my death in the pulpit ; that 
" is, die the sooner by occasion of those labours. 
" Sir, I hope to see you presently after Candlemas } 
" about which time will fall my Lent Sermon at 
" Court, except my Lord Chamberlain believe me to 
" be dead, and so leave me out of the roll : but as 
" long as I live, and am not speechless, I would not 
(< willingly decline that service. I have better 
" leisure to write, than you to read ; yet I would 
" not willingly oppress you with too much letter. 
ee God so bless you and your son, as I wish to 
Your poor friend, and Servant 
in Christ Jesus, 

J. Donne, 



68 THE LIFE OF 

Before that month ended, he was appointed to 
preach upon his old constant day, the first Friday in 
Lent : he had notice of it, and had in his sickness 
so prepared for that employment, that as he had 
long thirsted for it, so he resolved his weakness 
should not hinder his journey 3 he came therefore 
to London some few days before his appointed day 
of preaching-. At his coming thither, many of his 
friends — who with sorrow saw his sickness had left 
him but so much flesh as did only cover his bones — 
doubted his strength to peform that task, and did 
therefore dissuade him from undertaking it, assur- 
ing him however, it was like to shorten his life : but 
he passionately denied their requests, saying he would 
not doubt that that God, who in so many weaknesses 
had assisted him with an unexpected strength, would 
now withdraw it in his last employment ; professing an 
holy ambition to perform that sacred work. And when, 
to the amazement of some beholders, he appeared 
in the pulpit, many of them thought he presented 
himself not to preach mortification by a living voice, 
but mortality by a decayed body, and a dying face. 
And doubtless many did secretly ask that question 

in Ezekiel. Do these bones live? or. 
Chap, xxxvii. 3. 

can that soul organize that tongue, to 

speak so long time as the sand in that glass will move 

towards it's centre, and measure out an hour of this 

dijing mans unspent life ? Doubtless it cannot. And 

yet, after some faint pauses in his zealous prayer, 

his strong desires enabled his weak body to dis- 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 69 

charge his memory of his preconceived meditations, 
which were of dying ; the Text being, To God the 
Lord belong the issues from death. Many that then- 
saw his tears, and heard his faint and hollow voice, 
professing they thought the Text prophetically 
chosen, and that Dr. Donne had preached his own 
Funeral Sermon. 

Being full of joy that God had enabled him to 
perform this desired duty, he hastened to his house ; 
out of which he never moved, till, like St. Stephen, 
he was carried by devout men to his grave. 

The next day after his Sermon, his strength being 
much wasted, and his spirits so spent as indisposed 
him to business or to talk, a friend, that had often 
been a witness of his free and facetious discourse, 
asked him, Why are you sad? To whom he re- 
plied, with a countenance so full of cheerful gravity, 
as gave testimony of an inward tranquillity of mind, 
and of a soul willing to take a farewell of this 
world ; and said, 

" I am not sad 5 but most of the night past I have 
" entertained myself with many thoughts of several 
" friends that have left me here, and are gone to that 
" place from which they shall not return; and that 
" within a few days I also shall go hence, and be no 
" more seen. And my preparation for this change 
ct is become my nightly meditation upon my bed, 
" which my infirmities have now made restless to 
" me. But at this present time, I was in a serious 
" contemplation of the Providence and Goodness of 



70 THE LIFE OF 

" God to me ; to me, who am less than the least of 
" his mercies : and looking back upon my life past, 
" I now plainly see it was his hand that prevented 
" me from all temporal employment j and that it 
" was his will I should never settle nor thrive till I 
" entered into the Ministry 5 in which I have now 
" lived almost twenty years — I hope to his glory, — 
" and by which, I most humbly thank him, I have 
" been enabled to requite most of those friends which 
" shewed me kindness when my fortune was very 
" low, as God knows it was : and, — as it hath oc- 
<e casioned the expression of my gratitude — I thank 
" God most of them have stood in need of my re- 
' ' quital. I have lived to be useful and comfortable 
" to my good Father-in-law, Sir George More, whose 
" patience God hath been pleased to exercise with 
" many temporal crosses ; I have maintained my 
u own Mother, whom it hath pleased God, after a 
" plentiful fortune in her younger days, to bring to 
" great decay in her very old age. I have quieted 
" the consciences of many, that have groaned under 
" the burthen of a wounded spirit, whose prayers I 
" hope are available for me. I cannot plead in- 
" nocency of life, especially of my youth 5 but I am 
" to be judged by a merciful God, who is not willing 
" to see what I have done amiss. And though of my- 
" self I have nothing to present to him but sins and 
" misery, yet I know he looks not upon me now as 
u I am of myself, but as I am in my Saviour, and 
" hath given me, even at this present time, some 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 71 

" testimonies by his Holy Spirit, that I am of the 
" number of his Elect : I am therefore full of inex- 
" pressiblejoy, and shall die in peace" 

I must here look so far back, as to tell the Reader 
that at his first return out of Essex, to preach his 
last Sermon, his old friend and Physician, Dr. Fox — 
a man of great worth — came to him to consult his 
health ; and that after a sight of him, and some 
queries concerning his distempers, he told him, 
That by cordials, and drinking milk twenty days together, 
there was a probability of his restoration to health ; but 
he passionately denied to drink it. Nevertheless, 
Dr. Fox, who loved him most entirely, wearied him 
with solicitations, till he yielded to take it for ten 
days ; at the end of which time he told Dr. Fox, 
He had drunk it more to satisfy him, than to recover his 
health ,• and that he would not drink it ten days longer, 
upon the best moral assurance of having twenty years 
added to his life-, for he loved it not; and was so far 
from fearing Death, which to others is the King of 
Terrors, that he longed for the day of his dissolution. 

It is observed, that a desire of glory or commen- 
dation is rooted in the very nature of man -, and that 
those of the severest and most mortified lives, though 
they may become so humble as to banish self-flattery, 
and such weeds as naturally grow there ; yet they 
have not been able to kill this desire of glory, but 
that, like our radical heat, it will both live and die 
with us j and many think it should do so ; and we 
want not sacred examples to justify the desire of 



72 THE LIFE OF 

having our memory to outlive our lives ; which I 
mention, because Dr. Donne, by the persuasion of 
Dr. Fox, easily yielded at this very time to have a 
Monument made for him ; but Dr. Fox undertook 
not to persuade him how, or what Monument it 
should be } that was left to Dr. Donne himself. 

A Monument being resolved upon, Dr. Donne 
sent for a Carver to make for him in wood the figure 
of an Urn, giving him directions for the compass 
and height of it ; and to bring with it a board, of 
the just height of his body. " These being got, 
<e then without delay a choice Painter was got to be 
" in readiness to draw his picture, which was taken 

" as followeth. Several charcoal fires being first 

" made in his large Study, he brought with him into 
" that place his winding-sheet in his hand, and 
" having put off all his clothes, had this sheet put 
" on him, and so tied with knots at his head and feet, 
" and his hands so placed as dead bodies are usually 
" fitted, to be shrowded and put into their coffin, or 
" grave. Upon this Urn he thus stood, with his 
" eyes shut, and with so much of the sheet turned 
" aside as might shew his lean, pale, and death-like 
" face, which was purposely turned towards the 
" East, from whence he expected the second coming 
" of his and our Saviour Jesus." In this posture he 
was drawn at his just height ; and when the picture 
was fully finished, he caused it to be set by his bed- 
side, where it continued and became his hourly 
object till his death, and was then given to his 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 73 

dearest friend and Executor Dr. Henry King, then 
chief Residentiary of St. Pauts, who caused him to 
be thus carved in one entire piece of white marble, 
as it now stands in that Church ; and by Dr. Donne s 
own appointment, these words were to be affixed to 
it as an Epitaph : 

JOHANNES DONNE, 

SAC. THEOL. PROFESS. 

POST VARIA STUDIA, QUIBUS AB ANNIS 

TENERRIMIS FIDELITER, NEC INFELICITER 

INCUBUITj 
INSTINCTU ET IMPULSU SP. SANCTI, MONITU 

ET HORTATU 

REGIS JACOBI, ORDINES SACROS AMPLEXUS, 

ANNO SUI JESU, MDCXIV. ET SU^E .ETATIS XLII. 

DECANATU HUJUS ECCLESLE INDUTUS, 

XXVII. NOVEMBRIS, MDCXXI. 

EXUTUS MORTE ULTIMO DIE MARTII, MDCXXXI. 

HIC LICET IN OCCIDUO CINERE, ASPICIT EUM 

CUJUS NOMEN EST ORIENS. 

[Translated in the Notes.] 

And now, having brought him through the many 
labyrinths and perplexities of a various life, even to 
the gates of death and the grave ; my desire is, he 
may rest, till I have told my Reader that I have 
seen many pictures of him, in several habits, and 
at several ages, and in several postures : and I now 
mention this, because I have seen one picture of 
him, drawn by a curious hand, at his age of eighteen, 
with his sword, and what other adornments might 
then suit with the present fashions of youth, and 



74 THE LIFE OF 

the giddy gaities of that age 5 and his Motto then 
was 

How much shall I be changed, 

Before I am changed ! 

And if that young, and his now dying picture 
were at this time set together, every beholder might 
say, Lord ! how much is Dr. Donne already changed, 
before he is changed ! And the view of them might 
give my Reader occasion to ask himself with some 
amazement, Lord ! how much may I also, that am now 
in health, be changed before I am changed ; before this 
vile, this changeable body shall put off mortality ! and 

therefore to prepare for it. But this is not writ 

so much for my Reader's memento, as to tell him, 
that Dr. Donne would often in his private discourses, 
and often publicly in his Sermons, mention the 
many changes both of his body and mind 3 especially 
of his mind from a vertiginous giddiness 3 and 
would as often say, His great and most blessed change 
was from a temporal to a spiritual employment ; in 
which he was so happy, that he accounted the 
former part of his life to be lost 3 and the beginning 
of it to be, from his first entering into Sacred 
Orders, and serving his most merciful God at his 
altar. 

Upon Monday, after the drawing this picture, he 
took his last leave of his beloved study 3 and, being 
sensible of his hourly decay, retired himself to his 
bed-chamber 3 and that week sent at several times 
for many of his most considerable friends, with 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 75 

whom he took a solemn and deliberate farewell, 
commending to their considerations some sentences 
useful for the regulation of their lives ; and then 
dismissed them, as good Jacob did his sons, with a 
spiritual benediction. The Sunday following, he 
appointed his servants, that if there were any busi- 
ness yet undone, that concerned him or themselves, 
it should be prepared against Saturday next ; for 
after that day he would not mix his thoughts with 
any thing that concerned this world ; nor ever did ; 
but, as Job, so he waited for the appointed day of his 
dissolution. 

And now he was so happy as to have nothing to 
do but to die, to do which, he stood in need of no 
longer time ; for he had studied it long, and to so 
happy a perfection, that in a former sickness he 
called God to witness * He was that % j ,. Book 
minute ready to deliver his soul into his of Devotions 
hands, if that minute God would deter- 
mine his dissolution. In that sickness he begged of 
God the constancy to be preserved in that estate for 
fcver 5 and his patient expectation to have his im- 
mortal soul disrobed from her garment of mortality, 
makes me confident, that he now had a modest as- 
surance that his prayers were then heard, and his 
petition granted. He lay fifteen days earnestly ex- 
pecting his hourly change) and in the last hour of 
his last day, as his body melted away, and vapoured 
into spirit, his soul having, I verily believe, some 
revelation of the beatifical vision, he said, I were 



76 THE LIFE OF 

miserable if I might not die ; and after those words, 
closed many periods of his faint breath by saying 
often, Thy kingdom come, thy will be done. His speech, 
which had long been his rea'dy and faithful servant, 
left him not till the last minute of his life, and then 
forsook him, not to serve another master — for who 
speaks like him, — but died before him ; for that it 
was then become useless to him, that now con- 
versed with God on Earth, as Angels are said to do 
in Heaven, only by thoughts and looks. Being speech- 
less, and seeing Heaven by that illumination by 
which he saw it, he did, as St. Stephen, look sted- 
fastly into it, till he saw the Son of Man standing at the 
right hand of God his Father ; and being satisfied 
with this blessed sight, as his soul ascended/and 
his last breath departed from him, he closed his 
own eyes, and then disposed his hands and body into 
such a posture, as required not the least alteration 
by those that came to shroud him. 

Thus variable, thus virtuous was the life : thus 
excellent, thus exemplary was the death of this me- 
morable man. 

He was buried in that place of St. Paul's Church, 
which he had appointed for that use some years 
before his death ; and by which he passed daily to 
pay his public devotions to Almighty God — who 
was then served twice a day by a public form of 
prayer and praises in that place : — but he was not 
buried privately, though he desired it ; for, beside 
an unnumbered number of others, many persons of 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 77 

Nobility, and of eminency for Learning, who did 
love and honour him in his life, did shew it at his 
death, by a voluntary and sad attendance of his 
body to the grave, where nothing was so remark- 
able as a public sorrow. 

To which place of his burial some mournful friend 
repaired, and, as Alexander the Great did to the 
grave of the famous Achilles, so they strewed his 
with an abundance of curious and costly flowers j 
which course, they, — who were never yet known, — 
continued morning and evening for many days, not 
ceasing, till the stones, that were taken up in that 
Church, to give his body admission into the cold 
earth — now his bed of rest, — were again by the 
Mason's art so levelled and firmed as they had been 
formerly, and his place of burial undistinguishable 
to common view. 

The next day after his burial, some unknown 
friend, some one of the many lovers and admirers 
of his Virtue and Learning, writ this Epitaph with 
a coal on the wall over his grave : 

Reader ! I am to let thee know, 
Donne's Body only lies belovj ; 
For, could the grave his Soul comprise, 
Earth would be richer than the Skies ! 

Nor was this all the honour done to his reverend 
ashes 5 for, as there be some persons that will not 
receive a reward for that for which God accounts 
himself a debtor ; persons that dare trust God with 
their charity, and without a witness 3 so there was 



78 THE LIFE OF 

by some grateful unknown friend, that thought Dr. 
Donne s memory ought to be perpetuated, an hun- 
dred marks sent to his two faithful 
Dr?i*S^A d friends * and Executors, towards 
the making of his Monument. It 
was not for many years known by whom ; but, after 
the death of Dr. Fox, it was known that it was he 
that sent it ; and he lived to see as lively a repre- 
sentation of his dead friend, as marble can express : 
a statue indeed so like Dr. Donne, that — as his friend 
Sir Henry Wotton hath expressed himself, — It seems 
to breathe faintly , and posterity shall look upon it as a 
kind of artificial miracle. 

He was of Stature moderately tall; of a straight 
and equally -proportioned body, to which all his words 
and actions gave an unexpressible addition of comeliness. 

The melancholy and pleasant humour were in him so 
contempered, that each gave advantage to the other, 
and made his company one of the delights of mankind. 

His fancy was unimitably high, equalled only by his 
great wit; both being made useful by a commanding 
judgment. 

His aspect was cheerful, and such as gave a silent 
testimony of a clear knowing soul, and of a conscience 
at peace with itself. 

His melting eye shewed that he had a soft heart, 
full of noble compassion ; of too brave a soul to offer 
injuries, and too much a Christian not to pardon them 
in others. 

He did much contemplate — especially after he entered 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 79 

into his sacred calling — the Mercies of Almighty God, 
the Immortality of the Soul, and the Joys of Heaven : 
and would often say in a kind of sacred ecstacy, — ' 
Blessed be God that he is God, only and divinely 
like himself. 

He was by nature highly passionate, but more apt to 
reluct at the excesses of it. A great lover of the offices 
of humanity, and of so merciful a spirit, that he never 
beheld the miseries of mankind without pity and 
relief. 

He was earnest and unwearied in the search of know- 
ledge, with which his vigorous soul is now satisfied, and 
employed in a continual praise of that God that first 
breathed it into his active body : that body, which once 
was a Temple of the Holy Ghost, and is now become 
a small quantity of Christian dust : — 

But I shall see it re-animated. 

Feb. 15, 1639. I. W. 



AN EPITAPH, 

WRITTEN BY 

DOCTOR CORBET, LATE BISHOP OF OXFORD, 

ON HIS FRIEND DR. DONNE. 

He that would write an Epitaph for thee, 
And write it well, must first begin to be 
Such as thou wert j for none can truly know 
Thy life and worth, but he that hath liv'd so : 



80 THE LIFE OF 

He must have Wit to spare, and to hurl down, 

Enough to keep the gallants of the town. 

He must have Learning plenty ; both the Laws, 

Civil and common, to judge any cause. 

Divinity, great store, above the rest, 

Not of the last edition, but the best. 

He must have Language, Travel, all the Arts, 

Judgment to use, or else he wants thy parts. 

He must have friends the highest, able to do, 

Such as Maecenas and Augustus too. 

He must have such a sickness, such a death, 

Or else his vain descriptions come beneath. 

He that would write an Epitaph for thee, 

Should first be dead 5 — let it alone for me. 



TO THE MEMORY OF 



MY EVER-DESIRED FRIEND, DOCTOR DONNE. 
AN ELEGY 

BY H. KING, LATE BISHOP OF CHICHESTER. 

To have liv'd eminent, in a degree 
Beyond our loftiest thoughts, that is, like Thee j 
Or t' have had too much merit is not safe, 
For such excesses find no epitaph. 

At common graves we have poetic eyes 
Can melt themselves in easy elegies ; 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 81 

Each quill can drop his tributary verse, 

And pin it, like the hatchments, to the hearse ; 

But at thine, poem or inscription 

— Rich soul of wit and language — we have none. 

Indeed a silence does that tomb befit, 

Where is no herald left to blazon it. 

Widow'd Invention justly doth forbear 

To come abroad, knowing thou art not there : 

Late her great patron, whose prerogative 

Maintain' d and cloth'd her so, as none alive 

Must now presume to keep her at thy rate, 

Tho' he the Indies for her dower estate. 

Or else, that awful fire which once did burn 

In thy clear brain, now fallen into thy urn, 

Lives there, to fright rude empirics from thence, 

Which might profane thee by their ignorance. 

Whoever writes of Thee, and in a style 

Unworthy such a theme, does but revile 

Thy precious dust, and wakes a learned spirit, 

Which may revenge his rapes upon thy merit : 

For, all a low-pitch'd fancy can devise 

Will prove at best but hallow' d injuries. 

Thou like the dying swan didst lately sing, 
Thy mournful dirge in audience of the King ; 
When pale looks and faint accents of thy breath, 
Presented so to life that piece of death, 
That it was fear'd and prophesy' d by all 
Thou thither cam'st to preach thy funeral. 

M 



82 THE LIFE OF 

Oh ! had'st thou in an elegiac knell 
Rung out unto the world thine own farewell, 
And in thy high victorious numbers beat 
The solemn measures of thy griev'd retreat, 
Thou might' st the Poet's service now have miss'd 
As well as then thou didst prevent the Priest j 
And never to the world beholden be, 
So much as for an epitaph for thee. 

I do not like the office $ nor is't fit 
Thou, who didst lend our age such sums, of wit, 
Should' st now re-borrow from her bankrupt mine 
That ore to bury thee which first was thine : 
Rather still leave us in thy debt -, and know, 
Exalted soul, more glory 'tis to owe 
Thy memory what we can never pay, 
Than with embased coin those rites defray. 

Commit we then Thee to Thyself, nor blame 
Our drooping loves, that thus to thine own frame 
Leave Thee executor, since but thine own 
No pen could do thee justice, nor bays crown 
Thy vast deserts $ save that we nothing can 
Depute, to be thy ashes' guardian. 

So Jewellers no art or metal trust, 
To form the diamond, but the diamond's dust. 

H.K. 



BR. JOHN DONNE. 83 

AN ELEGY ON DR. DONNE. 
BY IZAAK WALTON. 

Our Donne is dead ! and we may sighing say, 
We had that man, where language chose to stay, 
And shew her utmost power. I would not praise 
That, and his great wit, which in our vain days 
Make others proud ; but as these serv'd to unlock 
That cabinet his mind, where such a stock 
Of knowledge was repos'd, that I lament 
Our just and general cause of discontent. 

And I rejoice I am not so severe, 
But as I write a line, to weep a tear 
For his decease 5 such sad extremities 
Can make such men as I write elegies. 

And wonder not 3 for when so great a loss 
Falls on a nation, and they slight the cross, 
God hath rais'd Prophets to awaken them 
From their dull lethargy ; witness my pen, 
Not us'd to upbraid the world, though now it must 
Freely and boldly, for the cause is just. 

Dull age ! Oh, I would spare thee, but thou'rt worse : 
Thou art not only dull, but hast a curse 
Of black ingratitude j if not, couldst thou 
Part with this matchless man, and make no vow 



84 THE LIFE OF 

For thee and thine successively to pay 
Some sad remembrance to his dying day ? 

Did his youth scatter Poetry, wherein 
Lay Love's Philosophy ? was every sin 
Pictur'd in his sharp Satires, made so foul, 
That some have fear'd sin's shapes, and kept their soul 
Safer by reading verse ; Bid he give days, 
Past marble monuments, to those whose praise 
He would perpetuate ? Did he — I fear 
Envy will doubt— these at his twentieth year ? 

But, more matur'd, did his rich soul conceive, 
And in harmonious holy numbers weave 
A Crown of Sacred Sonnets* fit t' adorn 
A dying martyr's brow, or to be worn 
On that blest head of Mary Magdalen, 
After she wip'd Christ's feet, but not till then ; 
Did he — fit for such penitents as she 
And he to use — leave us a Litany, 
Which all devout men love, and doubtless shall, 
As times grow better, grow more classical ? 
Did he write Hymns, for piety and wit, 
Equal to those great grave Prudentius writ ? 
Spake he all Languages ? Knew he all Laws ? 
The grounds and use of Physic 5 but, because 
'Twas mercenary, wav'd it ? went to see 
That happy place of Christ's nativity ? 
Did he return and preach him ? preach him so, 
As since St. Paul none ever did ? they know — • 
* La Corona. 



DR. JOHN DONNE. 85 

Those happy souls that heard him — know this truth. 
Did he confirm thy ag'd ? convert thy youth ? 
Did he these wonders ? and is his dear loss 
Mourn* d by so few ? few for so great a cross. 

But sure the silent are ambitious all 
To be close mourners of his funeraL 
If not, in common pity they forbear 
By repetitions to renew our care : 
Or knowing grief conceiv'd and hid, consumes 
Man's life insensibly, — as poison's fumes 
Corrupt the brain, — take silence for the way 
T' enlarge the soul from these walls, mud and clay, 
— Materials of this body — to remain 
With him in heaven, where no promiscuous pain 
Lessens those joys we have ; for with him all 
Are satisfied with joys essential. 

Dwell on these joys, my thoughts ! Oh ! do not call 
Grief back, by thinking on his funeral 
Forget he lov'd me : waste not my swift years, 
Which haste to David's seventy, fill'd with fears 
And sorrows for his death : forget his parts, 
They find a living grave in good men's hearts : 
And, for my first is daily paid for sin, 
Forget to pay my second sigh for him : 
Forget his powerful preaching j and forget 
I am his convert. Oh my frailty ! let 
My flesh be no more heard 5 it will obtrude 
This lethargy : so should my gratitude, 



86 



THE LIFE, &c. 



My vows of gratitude should so be broke, 
Which can no more be, than his virtues, spoke 
By any but himself : for which cause, I 
Write no encomiums, but this elegy ; 
Which, as a free-will offering, I here give 
Fame and the world ,- and parting with it, grieve 
I want abilities fit to set forth 
A monument, as matchless as his worth. 

IZ. WA. 
April 7, 1631. 



FINIS. 





Engra-ved ~by W?Fmaen . 



Sum, iHTiiwmT Wo^riccDsr, 



LONDON. 

PuteKsOieaiy Join. Major, 50.Tleet Street, 

May 15^1825. 



THE LIFE 



OP 



SJR HENRY WOTTON, KNIGHT, 

LATE 

PROVOST 

OF 

ETON COLLEGE. 




LONDON : 

JOHN MAJOR, 
MDCCCXXV. 




THE LIFE 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 



ir Henry Wotton — whose life I 
now intend to write — was born 
in the year of our Redemption 
1568, in Bocton-Hall, — com- 
monly called Bocton, or Bough- 
ton-Place, or Palace, — in the 
Parish of Bocton Malherbe, in the 
fruitful country of Kent. Boc- 
ton-Hall being an ancient and goodly structure, beau- 
tifying and being beautified by the Parish-Church 
of Bocton Malherbe adjoining unto it, and both seated 
within a fair Park of the Wottons, on the brow of 
such a hill, as gives the advantage of a large pro- 
spect, and of equal pleasure to all beholders. 




90 THE LIFE OF 

But this House and Church are not remarkable 
for any thing so much, as for that the memorable 
Family of the Wottons have so long inhabited the one, 
and now lie buried in the other, as appears by their 
many Monuments in that Church : the Wottons being 
a family that hath brought forth divers persons emi- 
nent for Wisdom and Valour ; whose heroic acts, and 
noble employments, both in England and in foreign 
parts, have adorned themselves and this nation ; 
which they have served abroad faithfully, in the dis- 
charge of their great trust, and prudently in their 
negociations with several Princes j and also served 
at home with much Honour and Justice, in their wise 
managing a great part of the public affairs thereof, 
in the various times both of War and Peace. 

But lest I should be thought by any, that may in- 
cline either to deny or doubt this truth, not to have 
observed moderation in the commendation of this 
Family ; and also for that I believe the merits and 
memory of such persons ought to be thankfully re- 
corded, I shall offer to the consideration of every 
Reader, out of the testimony of their Pedigree and 
our Chronicles, a part — and but a part — of that just 
commendation which might be from thence en- 
larged, and shall then leave the indifferent Reader 
to judge whether my error be an excess or defect of 
commendations. 

Sir Robert Wotton, of Bocton Malherbe, Knight, 
was born about the year of Christ 1460 : he, living 
in the reign of King Edward the Fourth, was by 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 91 

him trusted to be Lieutenant of Guisnes, to be Knight 

Porter, and Comptroller of Calais, where he died, and 

lies honourably buried. 

Sir Edward Wotton of Bocton Malherbe, Knight, — 

son and heir of the said Sir Robert — was born in the 

year of Christ 1489, in the reign of King Henry the 

Seventh ; he was made Treasurer of Calais, and of 

the Privy Council to King Henry the Eighth, who 

offered him to be Lord Chancellor of England : but, 

saith Holinshed* out of a virtuous „. _ . . „. 

* In his Chronicle, 
modesty, he refused it. 

Thomas Wotton of Bocton Malherbe, Esquire, son 
and heir of the said Sir Edward, and the father of 
our Sir Henry, that occasions this relation, was 
born in the year of Christ 1521. He was a gentle- 
man excellently educated, and studious in all the 
Liberal Arts ,• in the knowledge whereof he attained 
unto a great perfection ; who, though he had — be- 
sides those abilities, a very noble and plentiful estate, 
and the ancient interest of his predecessors — many in- 
vitations from Queen Elizabeth to change his country 
recreations and retirement for a Court, offering him 
a Knighthood, — she was then with him at his Boc- 
ton-Hall — and that to be but as an earnest of some 
more honourable and more profitable employment 
under her ; yet he humbly refused both, being a man 
of great modesty, of a most plain and single heart, of 
an ancient freedom, and integrity of mind. A com- 
mendation which Sir Henry Wotton took occasion 
often to remember with great gladness, and thank- 
fully to boast himself the son of such a father j from 



92 THE LIFE OF 

whom indeed he derived that noble ingenuity that 
was always practised by himself, and which he ever 
both commended and cherished in others. This 
Thomas was also remarkable for hospitality, a great 
lover and much beloved of his country 5 to which 
may justly be added, that he was a cherisher of 
learning, as appears by that excellent Antiquary Mr. 
William Lambarde, in his Perambulation of Kent. 

This Thomas had four sons, Sir Edward, Sir James, 
Sir John, and Sir Henry. 

Sir Edward was knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and 
made Comptroller of Her Majesty's Household. He 
was, — saith Camden y — a man remarkable for many 
and great employments in the State, during her 
reign, and sent several times Ambassador into foreign 
nations. After her death, he was by King James 
made Comptroller of his Household, and called to 
be of his Privy Council, and by him advanced to be 
Lord Wotton, Baron of Merley in Kent, and made 
Lord Lieutenant of that County. 

Sir James, the second son, may be numbered 
among the martial men of his age, who was, in the 
thirty-eighth of Queen Elizabeth's reign — with Ro- 
bert, Earl of Sussex, Count Lodowick of Nassau, Don 
Christophoro, son of Antonio, King of Portugal, and 
divers other gentlemen of nobleness and valour — 
knighted in the field near Cadiz in Spain, after they 
had gotten great honour and riches, besides a nota- 
ble retaliation of injuries, by taking that town. 

Sir John, being a gentleman excellently accom- 
plished, both by Learning and Travel, was knighted 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 93 

by Queen Elizabeth, and by her looked upon with 
more than ordinary favour, and with intentions of 
preferment ; but death in his younger years put a 
period to his growing hopes. 

Of Sir Henry my following discourse shall give 
an account. 

The descent of these fore-named Wottons was all 
in a direct line, and most of them and their actions in 
the memory of those with whom we have conversed ; 
but if I had looked so far back as to Sir Nicholas 
Wotton, who lived in the reign of King Richard the 
Second, or before him upon divers others of great 
note in their several ages, I might by some be thought 
tedious ; and yet others may more justly think me 
negligent, if I omit to mention Nicholas Wotton, the 
fourth son of Sir Robert, whom I first named. 

This Nicholas Wotton was Doctor of Law, and 
sometime Dean both of York and Canterbury ,• a man 
whom God did not only bless with a long life, but 
with great abilities of mind, and an inclination to 
employ them in the service of his country, as is tes- 
tified by his several employments,* 
having been sent nine times Ambas- ^P Britannia 
sador unto foreign Princes ; and by 
his being a Privy Councillor to King Henry the 
Eighth, to Edward the Sixth, to Queen Mary, and 
Queen Elizabeth; who also, after he had been, 
during the Wars between England, Scotland, and 
France, three several times — and not unsuccessfully 
— employed in Committees for settling of Peace 
betwixt this and those Kingdoms, died, saith learned 



94 THE LIFE OF 

Camden , full of commendations for Wisdom and Piety. 
He was also, by the Will of King Henry the Eighth, 
made one of his Executors, and Chief Secretary of 
State to his son, that pious Prince, Edward the Sixth. 
Concerning which Nicholas Wotton I shall say but 
this little more ; that he refused — being offered it 
by Queen Elizabeth — to be Archbishop of 
Canterbury, * — and that he died not rich, 
though he lived in that time of the dissolution of 
Abbeys. 

More might be added ; but by this it may appear, 
that Sir Henry Wotton was a branch of such a kin- 
dred, as left a stock of reputation to their posterity : 
such reputation as might kindle a generous emula- 
tion in strangers, and preserve a noble ambition in 
those of his name and family, to perform actions 
worthy of their ancestors. 

And that Sir Henry Wotton did so, might appear 

more perfectly than my pen can express it, if of his 

many surviving friends, some one of higher parts and 

employments, had been pleased to have commended his 

to posterity ; but since some years are now past, and 

they have all — I know not why — -forborne to do it, my 

gratitude to the memory of my dead 

*$ir 'Edward friend, and the renewed request of 

Byssne, Llarenceux d 1 J 

King of Arms, Mr. some* that still live solicitous to see 

mTmI C Nk°Ou- this duty performed ; these have had 

dert, sometime Sir a power to persuade me to undertake 

servant *" ^ ; which truly I have not done but 

with distrust of mine own abilities; 

and yet so far from despair, that lam modestly con/idem 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 95 

my humble language shall be accepted, because I shall 
present all readers with a commixture of truth, and 
Sir Henry Wotton's merits. 

This being premised, I proceed to tell the reader, 
that the Father of Sir Henry Wotton was twice mar- 
ried ; first to Elizabeth, the daughter of Sir John 
Rudstone, Knight ; after whose death, though his 
inclination was averse to all contentions, yet neces- 
sitated he was to several Suits in Law j in the pro- 
secution whereof, — which took up much of his time, 
and were the occasion of many discontents, — he was 
by divers of his friends earnestly persuaded to a re- 
marriage; to whom he as often answered, That if 
ever he did put on a resolution to marry, he was 
seriously resolved to avoid three sorts of persons: 
namely, 

Those that had Children ; 

Those that had Law-suits ; 

And those that were of his Kindred. 

And yet, following his own Law-suits, he met in 
Westminster- Hall with Mrs. Eleonora Morton, Widow 
to Robert Morton, of Kent, Esquire, who was also 
engaged in several Suits in Law : and he, observ- 
ing her comportment at the time of hearing one 
of her causes before the Judges, could not but at 
the same time both compassionate her condition, and 
affect her person j for the tears of Lovers, or Beauty 
dressed in sadness, are observed to have in them a 
charming eloquence, and to become very often too 



96 THE LIFE OF 

strong to be resisted : which I mention, because 
it proved so with this Thomas Wotton ,• for although 
there were in her a concurrence of all those acci- 
dents, against which he had so seriously resolved, 
yet his affection to her grew then so strong, that 
he resolved to solicit her for a wife, and did, and 
obtained her. 

By her — who was the daughter of Sir William 
Finch, of Eastwell, in Kent, — he had only Henry his 
youngest son. His Mother undertook to be tuto- 
ress unto him during much of his childhood ; for 
whose care and pains he paid her each day with such 
visible signs of future perfection in Learning, as 
turned her employment into a pleasing trouble ; 
which she was content to continue, till his Father 
took him into his own particular care, and disposed 
of him to a Tutor in his own house at Bocton. 

And when time and diligent instruction had made 
him fit for a removal to an higher form, — which 
was very early, — he was sent to Winchester -school : a 
place of strict discipline and order, that so he might 
in his youth be moulded into a method of living by 
rule, which his wise father knew to be the most ne- 
cessary way to make the future part of his life both 
happy to himself, and useful for the discharge of all 
business, whether public or private. 

And that he might be confirmed in this regularity, 
he was, at a fit age, removed from that School, to be 
a Commoner of New-College in Oxford; both being 
founded by William Wickham, Bishop of Winchester. 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 97 

There he continued till about the eighteenth year 
of his age, and was then transplanted into Queen's 
College ; where, within that year, he was by the chief 
of that College, persuasively enjoined to write a play 
for their private use ; — it was the Tragedy of Tan- 
credo — which was so interwoven with sentences, 
and for the method and exact personating those 
humours, passions and dispositions, which he pro- 
posed to represent, so performed, that the gravest 
of that society declared, he had, in a slight employ- 
ment, given an early and a solid testimony of his 
future abilities. And though there may be some 
sour dispositions, which may think this not worth 
a memorial, yet that wise Knight, Baptista Guarini, — 
whom learned Italy accounts one of her ornaments, 
— thought it neither an uncomely nor an unprofit- 
able employment for his age. 

But I pass to what will be thought more serious. 

About the twentieth year of his age he proceeded 
Master of Arts ,• and at that time read in Latin three 
Lectures De Oculo ,• wherein he having described the 
form, the motion, the curious composure of the Eye, 
and demonstrated how of those very many, every 
humour and nerve performs it's distinct office, so as 
the God of Order hath appointed, without mixture 
or confusion ; and all this to the advantage of man, 
to whom the Eye is given, not only as the body's 
guide, but whereas all other of his senses require 
time to inform the soul, this in an instant appre- 
hends and warns him of danger; teaching him in 
the very eyes of others, to discover Wit, Folly, Love, 
p 



98 THE LIFE OF 

and Hatred. After he had made these observations, 
he fell to dispute this Optic question. Whether we 
see by the emission of the beams from within, or recep- 
tion of the species from without ? And after that, and 
many other like learned disquisitions, he, in the 
conclusion of his Lectures, took a fair occasion to 
beautify his discourse with a commendation of the 
blessing and benefit of Seeing ; — by which we do not 
only discover Nature's secrets, but, with a continued 
content — for the eye is never weary of seeing — behold 
the great Light of the World, and by it discover the 
fabric of the Heavens, and both the order and motion 
of the Celestial Orbs ; nay, that if the Eye look but 
downward, it may rejoice to behold the bosom of the 
Earth, our common mother, embroidered and adorned 
with numberless and various flowers, which man sees 
daily grow up to perfection, and then silently moralise 
his own condition, who, in a short time, — like those very 
flowers — decays, withers, and quickly returns again to 
that Earth, from which both had their first being. 

These were so exactly debated, and so rhetorically 
heightened, as, among other admirers, caused that 
learned Italian, Albericus Gentilis, then Professor of 
the Civil Law in Oxford, to call him Henrice mi 
Ocelle ,• which dear expression of his was also used 
by divers of Sir Henry's dearest friends, and by many 
other persons of note during his stay in the University. 

But his stay there was not long, at least not so 
long as his friends once intended ; for the year after 
Sir Henry proceeded Master of Arts, his Father — 
whom Sir Henry did never mention without this, or 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 



99 



some like reverential expression 3 as, That good 
man my Father 3 or, My Father, the best of men; — 
about that time, this good man changed this for a 
better life ; leaving to Sir Henry, as to his other 
younger sons, a rent-charge of an hundred marks 
a year, to be paid for ever out of some one of his 
Manors, of a much greater value. 

And here, though this good man be dead, yet I 
wish a circumstance or two that concerns him, may 
not be buried without a relation 3 which I shall un- 
dertake to do, for that I suppose they may so much 
concern the Reader to know, that I may promise 
myself a pardon for a short digression. 

In the year of our Redemption 1553, Nicholas 
Wotton, Dean of Canterbury, 




— whom I formerly mentioned, — being then Am- 
bassador in France, dreamed that his Nephew, this 



100 THE LIFE OF 

Thomas Wotton, was inclined to be a party in sueh a 
project, as, if he were not suddenly prevented, 
would turn both to the loss of his life, and ruin of 
his Family. 

Doubtless the good Dean did well know that 
common Dreams are but a senseless paraphrase on 
our waking thoughts, or of the business of the day 
past, or are the result of our over-engaged affec- 
tions, when we betake ourselves to rest ; and knew 
that the observation of them may turn to silly su- 
perstitions, as they too often do. But, though he 
might know all this, and might also believe that 
prophecies are ceased ; yet doubtless he could not 
but consider, that all dreams are not to be neglected 
or cast away without all consideration ; and did 
therefore rather lay this Dream aside, than intend 
totally to lose it ; and dreaming the same again the 
night following, when it became a double Dream, 
like that of Pharaoh, — of which double Dreams the 
learned have made many observations, — and con- 
sidering that it had no dependence on his waking 
thoughts, much less on the desires of his heart, 
then he did more seriously consider it ; and re- 
membered that Almighty God was pleased in a 
Dream to reveal and to assure Monica,* 
*St. Austin's the Mother of St Justin That he, her 

Confession. ' ' 

son, for whom she wept so bitterly, and 
prayed so much, should at last become a Christian: 
This, I believe, the good Dean considered ; and 
considering also that Almighty God,— though the 
causes of Dreams be often unknown — hath even in 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 101 

these latter times also, by a certain illumination of 
the Soul in sleep, discovered many things that 
human wisdom could not foresee ; upon these con- , 
siderations he resolved to use so prudent a remedy 
by way of prevention, as might introduce no great 
inconvenience either to himself or to his Nephew. 
And to that end he wrote to the Queen, — 'twas 
Queen Mary, — and besought her, That she would 
cause his Nephew, Thomas Wotton, to be sent for out 
of Kent 3 and that the Lords of her Council might in- 
terrogate him in some such feigned questions, as might 
give a colour for his commitment into a favourable 
prison ; declaring that he would acquaint her Majesty 
with the true reason of his request, when he should next 
become so happy as to see and speak to her Majesty. 

It was done as the Dean desired : and in prison 
I must leave Mr. Wotton, till I have told the Reader 
what followed. 

At this time a marriage was concluded betwixt 
our Queen Mary, and Philip, King of Spain; and 
though this was concluded with the advice, if not 
by the persuasion, of her Privy Council, as having 
many probabilities of advantage to this nation j yet 
divers persons of a contrary persuasion did not only 
declare against it, but also raised forces to oppose 
it : believing — as they said — it would be a means 
to bring England to be under a subjection to Spain, 
and make those of this nation slaves to strangers. 

And of this number, Sir Thomas Wyat, of Boxley- 
Abbey in Kent, — betwixt whose family and the fav 



102 THE LIFE OF 

mily of the Wottons there had been an ancient and 
entire friendship, — was the principal actor; who 
having persuaded many of the Nobility and Gentry 
— especially of Kent — to side with him, and he being 
defeated, and taken prisoner, was legally arraigned 
and condemned, and lost his life : so did the Duke 
of Suffolk and divers others, especially many of the 
Gentry of Kent, who were there in several places 
executed as Wyat's assistants. 

And of this number, in all probability, had Mr. 
Wotton been, if he had not been confined -, for 
though he could not be ignorant that another mans 
Treason makes it mine by concealing it, yet he durst 
confess to his Uncle, when he returned into England, 
and then came to visit him in prison, That he had 
more than an intimation of Wyat's intentions; and 
thought he had not continued actually innocent, if 
his Uncle had not so happily dreamed him into a 
prison ; out of which place when he was delivered 
by the same hand that caused his commitment, they 
both considered the Dream more seriously, and 
then both joined in praising God for it ; That God, 
who ties himself to no rules, either in preventing of 
evil, or in shewing of mercy to those, whom of good 
pleasure he hath chosen to love. 

And this Dream was the more considerable, be- 
cause that God, who in the days of old did use to 
speak to his people in Visions, did seem to speak to 
many of this Family in Dreams j of which I will 
also give the reader one short particular of this 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 103 

Thomas Wotton, whose Dreams did usually prove 
true, both in foretelling things to come, and dis- 
covering things past j and the particular is this. — 
This Thomas, a little before his death, dreamed that 
the University Treasury was robbed by Townsmen 
and poor Scholars, and that the number was five -, 
and being that day to write to his son Henry at 
Oxford, he thought it worth so much pains, as by a 
postscript in his letter to make a slight enquiry of 
it. The letter — which was writ out of Kent, and 
dated three days before — came to his son's hands 
the very morning after the night in which the 
robbery was committed; and when the City and 
University were both in a perplexed inquest of the 
thieves, then did Sir Henry Wotton shew his Father's 
letter, and by it such light was given of this work 
of darkness, that the five guilty persons were pre- 
sently discovered and apprehended, without putting 
the University to so much trouble as the casting of 
a Figure. 

And it may yet be more considerable, that this 
Nicholas and Thomas Wotton should both — being 
men of holy lives, of even tempers, and much given 
to fasting and prayer — foresee and foretell the very 
days of their own death. Nicholas did so, being 
then seventy years of age, and in perfect health. 
Thomas did the like in the sixty-fifth year of his 
age 5 who being then in London, — where he died, — 
and foreseeing his death there, gave direction in 
what manner his body should be carried to Bocton ; 



104 THE LIFE OF 

and though he thought his Uncle Nicholas worthy 
of that noble monument which he built for him in 
the Cathedral Church of Canterbury ; yet this humble 
man gave direction concerning himself, to be buried 
privately, and especially without any pomp at his 
funeral. This is some account of this family, which 
seemed to be beloved of God. 

But it may now seem more than time, that I re- 
turn to Sir Henry Wotton at Oxford-, where, after 
his Optic Lecture, he was taken into such a bosom 
friendship with the learned Albericus Gentilis, — 
whom I formerly named, — that, if it had been pos- 
sible, Gentilis would have breathed all his excellent 
knowledge, both of the Mathematics and Law, into 
the breast of his dear Harry, for so Gentilis used to 
call him : and though he was not able to do that, 
yet there was in Sir Henry such a propensity and 
connaturalness to the Italian language, and those 
studies whereof Gentilis was a great master, that 
the friendship between them did daily increase, and 
proved daily advantageous to Sir Henry, for the im- 
provement of him in several sciences during his stay 
in the University. 

From which place, before I shall invite the Reader 
to follow him into a foreign nation, though I must 
omit to mention divers persons that were then in 
Oxford, of memorable note for learning, and friends 
to Sir Henry Wotton ; yet I must not omit the men- 
tion of a love that was there begun betwixt him 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 105 

and Dr. Donne, sometimes Dean of St. PauVs ,- a 
man of whose abilities I shall forbear to say any 
thing, because he who is of this nation, and pretends 
to learning or ingenuity, and is ignorant of Dr. 
Donne, deserves not to know him. The friendship 
of these two I must not omit to mention, being such 
a friendship as was generously elemented ; and as 
it was begun in their youth, and in an University, 
and there maintained by correspondent inclinations 
and studies, so it lasted till age and death forced a 
separation. 

In Oxford he stayed till about two years after his 
Father's death -, at which time he was about the 
twenty- second year of his age ; and having to his 
great wit added the ballast of learning, and know- 
ledge of the Arts, he then laid aside his books, and 
betook himself to the useful library of travel, and 
a more general conversation with mankind - } em- 
ploying the remaining part of his youth, his in- 
dustry, and fortune, to adorn his mind, and to 
purchase the rich treasure of foreign knowledge : 
of which, both for the secrets of Nature, the dis- 
positions of many nations, their several laws and 
languages, he was the possessor in a very large 
measure -, as I shall faithfully make to appear, be- 
fore I take my pen from the following narration of 
his life. 

In his travels, which was almost nine years before 
his return into England, he stayed but one year 
in France, and most of that in Geneva, where he 

Q 



106 THE LIFE OF 

became acquainted with Theodore Beza,-- -then very 
aged 5 — and with Isaac Casaubon, in whose house, if 
I be rightly informed, Sir Henry Wotton was lodged, 
and there contracted a most worthy friendship with 
that man of rare learning and ingenuity. 

Three of the. remaining eight years were spent 
in Germany, the other five in Italy, — the stage on 
which God appointed he should act a great part of 
his life 5 — where, both in Rome, Venice, and Florence, 
he became acquainted with the most eminent men 
for learning and all manner of Artsj as Picture, 
Sculpture, Chemistry, Architecture, and other manual 
Arts, even Arts of inferior nature ; of all which he 
was a most dear lover, and a most excellent judge. 

He returned out of Italy into England about the 
thirtieth year of his age, being then noted by many 
both for his person and comportment j for indeed 
he was of a choice shape, tall of stature, and of a 
most persuasive behaviour j which was so mixed 
with sweet discourse and civilities, as gained him 
much love from all persons with whom he entered 
into an acquaintance. 

And whereas he was noted in his youth to have 
a sharp wit, and apt to jest -, that, by time, travel, 
and conversation, was so polished, and made so 
useful, that his company seemed to be one of the 
delights of mankind 5 insomuch as Robert Earl of 
Essex — then one of the Darlings of Fortune, and in 
greatest favour with Queen Elizabeth — invited him 
first into a friendship, and, after a knowledge of his 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 107 

great abilities, to be one of his Secretaries ; the 
other being Mr. Henry Cuffe, sometime of Merton 
College in Oxford, — and there also the acquaintance 
of Sir Henry Wotton in his youth, — Mr. Cuffe being 
then a man of no common note in the University for 
his learning ; nor, after his removal from that place, 
for the great abilities of his mind, nor indeed for 
the fatalness of his end. 

Sir Henry Wotton, being now taken into a service- 
able friendship with the Earl of Essex, did per- 
sonally attend his counsels and employments in two 
voyages at sea against the Spaniard, and also in 
that — which was the Earl's last — into Ireland ,• that 
voyage, wherein he then did so much provoke the 
Queen to anger, and worse at his return into Etig- 
land; upon whose immoveable favour the Earl had 
built such sandy hopes, as encouraged him to those 
undertakings, which, with the help of a contrary 
faction, suddenly caused his commitment to the 
Tower. 

Sir Henry Wotton observing this, though he was 
not of that faction — for the EarVs followers were 
also divided into their several interests — which en- 
couraged the Earl to those undertakings which 
proved so fatal to him and divers of his confedera- 
tion, yet, knowing Treason to be so comprehensive, 
as to take in even circumstances, and out of them 
to make such positive conclusions, as subtle States-* 
men shall project, either for their revenge or safety ; 
considering this, he thought prevention, by absence 



108 THE LIFE OF 

out of England j a better security, than to stay in it, 
and there plead his innocency in a prison. There- 
fore did he, so soon as the Earl was apprehended, 
very quickly, and as privately, glide through Kent 
to Dover, without so much as looking toward his 
native and beloved Bocton; and was, by the help 
of favourable winds, and liberal payment of the 
mariners, within sixteen hours after his departure 
from London, set upon the French shore 5 where he 
heard shortly after, that the Earl was arraigned, 
condemned, and beheaded $ and that his friend Mr. 
Cuffe was hanged, and divers other persons of emi- 
nent quality executed. 

The times did not look so favourably upon Sir 
Henry Wot ton, as to invite his return into England : 
having therefore procured of Sir Edward Wotton, 
his elder brother, an assurance that his annuity 
should be paid him in Italy, thither he went, happily 
renewing his intermitted friendship and interest, 
and indeed his great content in a new conversation 
with his old acquaintance in that nation, and more 
particularly in Florence, — which City is not more 
eminent for the Great Duke's Court, than for the 
great recourse of men of choicest note for Learning 
and Arts, — in which number he there met with his 
old friend Signior Vietta, a gentleman of Venice, and 
then taken to be Secretary to the Great Duke of 
Tuscany. 

After some stay in Florence, he went the fourth 
time to visit Rome, where, in the English College he 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 109 

had very many friends ; — their humanity made them 
really so, though they knew him to be a dissenter 
from many of their principles of religion ; and 
having enjoyed their company, and satisfied himself 
concerning some curiosities that did partly occasion 
his journey thither, he returned back to Florence, 
where a most notable accident befel him -, an acci- 
dent that did not only find new employment for his 
choice abilities, but did introduce him to a know- 
ledge and interest with our King James, then King 
of Scotland ; which I shall proceed to relate. 

But first I am to tell the Reader, that though 
Queen Elizabeth, or she and her Council, were never 
willing to declare her successor ,• yet James, then 
King of the Scots, was confidently believed by most 
to be the man upon whom the sweet trouble of 
Kingly government would be imposed ; and the 
Queen declining very fast, both by age and visible 
infirmities, those that were of the Romish persuasion 
in point of Religion, — even Rome itself, and those 
of this nation, — knowing that the death of the 
Queen and the establishing of her successor, were 
taken to be critical days for destroying or establish- 
ing the Protestant Religion in this nation, did there- 
fore improve all opportunities for preventing a 
Protestant Prince to succeed her. And as the Popes 
Excommunication of Queen Elizabeth, had both by 
the judgment and practice of the Jesuited Papist, 
exposed her to be warrantably destroyed j so, — if 



110 THE LIFE OF 

we may believe an angry adversary, a secular 

Priest* against a Jesuit — you may be- 
^Watsonm H th&t about that time there were 

his Quodhbets. 

many endeavours, first to excommu- 
nicate, and then to shorten the life of King James. 

Immediately after Sir Henry Wottoris return from 
Rome to Florence, — which was about a year before 
the death of Queen Elizabeth, — Ferdinand the Great 
Duke of Florence, had intercepted certain letters, 
that discovered a design to take away the life of 
James, the then King of Scots. The Duke abhor- 
ring this fact, and resolving to endeavour a preven- 
tion of it, advised with his Secretary Vietta,by what 
means a caution might be best given to that King j 
and after consideration it was resolved to be done 
by Sir Henry Wotton, whom Vietta first commended 
to the Duke, and the Duke had noted and approved 
of above all the English that frequented his Court. 

Sir Henry was gladly called by his friend Vietta 
to the Duke, who, after much profession of trust 
and friendship, acquainted him with the secret -, and 
being well instructed, dispatched him into Scotland 
with letters to the King, and with those letters such 
Italian antidotes against poison, as the Scots till 
then had been strangers to. 

Having parted from the Duke, he took up the 
name and language of an Italian ; and thinking it 
best to avoid the line of English intelligence and 
danger, he posted into Norway, and through that 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. Ill 

country towards Scotland, where he found the King 
at Stirling. Being there, he used means, by Bernard 
Lindsey, one of the King's Bed-chamber, to procure 
him a speedy and private conference with his Ma- 
jesty -, assuring him., That the business which he was 
to negociate was of such consequence, as had caused the 
Great Duke of Tuscany to enjoin him suddenly to 
leave his native country of Italy, to impart it to his 
King. 

This being by Bernard Lindsey made known to 
the King, the King, after a little wonder — mixed 
with jealousy — to hear of an Italian Ambassador, 
or messenger, required his name, — which was said 
to be Octavio Baldi, — and appointed him to be heard 
privately at a fixed hour that evening. 

When Octavio Baldi came to the Presence-chamber 
door, he was requested to lay aside his long rapier 
— which, Italian-like, he then wore ; — and being 
entered the chamber, he found there with the King 
three or four Scotch Lords standing distant in several 
corners of the chamber : at the sight of whom he 
made a stand ; which the King observing, bade him 
be bold, and deliver his message ; for he would undertake 
for the secrecy of all that were present. Then did 
Octavio Baldi deliver his letters and his message to 
the King in Italian ; which when the King had gra- 
ciously received, after a little pause, Octavio Baldi 
steps to the table, and whispers to the King in his 
own language, that he was an Englishman, beseech- 
ing him for a more private conference with his 



112 THE LIFE OF 

Majesty, and that he might be concealed during 
his stay in that nation j which was promised and 
really performed by the King, during all his abode 
there, which was about three months - } all which 
time was spent with much pleasantness to the King, 
and with as much to Octavio Baldi himself, as that 
country could afford j from which he departed as 
true an Italian as he came thither. 

To the Duke at Florence he returned with a fair 
and grateful account of his employment 5 and with- 
in some few months after his return, there came 
certain news to Florence, that Queen Elizabeth was 
dead j and James, King of the Scots proclaimed 
King of England. The Duke knowing travel and 
business to be the best schools of wisdom, and that 
Sir Henry Wotton had been tutored in both, advised 
him to return presently to England, and there joy 
the King with his new and better title, and wait 
there upon Fortune for a better employment. 

When King James came into England, he found 
amongst other of the late Queen's officers, Sir 
Edward, who was, after Lord Wotton, Comptroller 
of the House, of whom he demanded, If he knew one 
Henry Wotton, that had spent much time in foreign 
travel ? The Lord replied he knew him well, and 
that he was his brother. Then the King, asking 
where he then was, was answered, at Venice or 
Florence ; but by late letters from thence he under- 
stood he would suddenly be at Paris. Send for him, 
said the King, and when he shall come into England, 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 113 

bid him repair privately to me. The Lord Wotton, 
after a little wonder,, asked the King, If he knew. 
him ? To which the King answered, You must rest 
unsatisfied of that till you bring the gentleman to me. 

Not many months after this discourse, the Lord 
Wotton brought his brother to attend the King, 
who took him in his arms, and bade him welcome 
by the name of Octavio Baldi, saying, he was the most 
honest,- and therefore the best dissembler that ever he 
met with : and said, Seeing I know you neither want 
learning, travel, nor experience, and that I have had so 
real a testimony of your faithfulness and abilities to 
manage an ambassage, I have sent for you to declare 
my purpose ,• which is, to make use of you in that kind 
hereafter. And indeed the King did so, most of 
those two and twenty years of his reign j but be- 
fore he dismissed Octavio Baldi from his present 
attendance upon him, he restored him to his old 
name of Henry Wotton, by which he then knighted 
him. 

Not long after this, the King having resolved 
according to his Motto, — Beati paciftci — to have a 
friendship with his neighbour Kingdoms of France 
and Spain ,• and also, for divers weighty reasons, to 
enter into an alliance with the State of Venice, and 
to that end to send Ambassadors to those several 
places, did propose the choice of these employments 
to Sir Henry Wotton; who, considering the small- 
ness of his own estate, — which he never took care 



114 



THE LIFE OF 



to augment, — and knowing the Courts of great 
Princes to be sumptuous, and necessarily expensive, 
inclined most to that of Venice, as being a place of 
more retirement, and best suiting with his genius, 
who did ever love to join with business, study, 
and a trial of natural experiments ; for both which, 
fruitful Italy, that Darling of Nature, and Cherisher 
of all Arts, is so justly famed in all parts of the 
Christian world. 

Sir Henry having, after some short time and 
consideration, resolved upon Venice, 



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and a large allowance being appointed by the King 
for his voyage thither, and a settled maintenance 
during his stay there, he left England, nobly ac- 
companied through France to Venice, by gentlemen 
of the best families and breeding that this nation 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 115 

afforded : they were too many to name ; but these 
two, for the following reasons, may not be omitted. 
Sir Albertus Morton, his Nephew, who went his Se- 
cretary ; and William Bedel, a man of choice learning, 
and sanctified wisdom, who went his Chaplain. 

And though his dear friend Dr. Donne — then a 
private gentleman— was not one of the number that 
did personally accompany him in this voyage, yet 
the reading of this following letter, sent by him to 
Sir Henry Wotton, the morning before he left Eng- 
land, may testify he wanted not his friend's best 
wishes to attend him. 



SIR, 

After those reverend papers, whose soul is 

Our good and great King's lovd hand and fear d name 

By which to you he derives much of his, 

And, how he may, makes you almost the same ; 

A taper of his torch $ a copy writ 

From his original, and a fair beam 

Of the same warm and dazzling Sun, though it ■ 

Must in another sphere his virtue stream : 

After those learned papers, which your hand 
Hath stord with notes of use and pleasure too ; 
From which rich treasury you may command 
Fit matter whether you will write or do .• 



116 THE LIFE OF 

After those loving papers which friends send 
With glad grief to your sea-ward steps, farewell. 
And thicken on you now as prayers ascend 
To Heaven on troops at a good mans Passing-bell 

Admit this honest paper, and allow 
It such an audience as yourself would ask ; 
What you would say at Venice, this says now, 
And has for Nature what you have for task. 

To swear much love ; nor to be changd before 
Honour alone will to your fortune fit ; 
Nor shall I then honour your fortune more, 
Than I have done your honour -wanting Wit. 

But 'tis an easier load — though both oppress — 
To want, than govern greatness • for we are. 
In that, our own and only business ; 
In this, we must for others' vices care. 

' Tis therefore well your spirits now are placd 

In their last furnace, in activity, 

Which fits them ,• Schools, and Courts, and Wars 

oerpast 
To touch and taste in any best degree. 

For me ! — if there be such a thing as I — 
Fortune — if there be sach a thing as she — 
Finds that I bear so well her tyranny, 
That she thinks nothing else so Jit for me. 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 117 

But, though she part us, to hear my oft prayers 
For your increase, God is as near me here : 
And, to send you what I shall beg, his stairs 
In length and ease are alike every where. 

J. Donne. 



Sir Henry Wotton was received by the State of 
Venice with much honour and gladness, both for 
that he delivered his ambassage most elegantly in 
the Italian language, and came also in such a junc- 
ture of time, as his master's friendship seemed use- 
ful for that Republic. The time of his coming 
thither was about the year 1604, Leonardo Donato 
being then Duke ; a wise and resolved man, and to 
all purposes such — Sir Henry Wotton would often 
say it — as the State of Venice could not then have 
wanted; there having been formerly, in the time 
of Pope Clement the Eighth, some contests about 
the privileges of Churchmen, and the power of the 
Civil Magistrate 3 of which, for the information of 
common Readers, I shall say a little, because it may 
give light to some passages that follow, 

About the year 1603, the Republic of Venice made 
several injunctions against lay-persons giving lands 
or goods to the Church, without licence from the 
Civil Magistrate; and in that inhibition they ex- 
pressed their reasons to be, For that when any goods 
or land once came into the hands of the Ecclesiastics, it 
was not subject to alienation ; by reason whereof — the 



118 THE LIFE OF 

lay-people being at their death charitable even to excess, 
■ — the Clergy grew every day more numerous, and pre- 
tended an exemption from all public service and taxes, 
and from all secular judgment ; so that the burden 
grew thereby too heavy to be born by the Laity. 

Another occasion of difference was, that about 
this time complaints were justly made by the Vene- 
tians against two Clergymen, the Abbot of Nervesa, 
and a Canon of Vicenza, for committing such sins 
as I think not fit to name : nor are these mentioned 
with an intent to fix a scandal upon any calling $ — 
for holiness is not tied to Ecclesiastical Orders, — 
and Italy is observed to breed the most virtuous 
and most vicious men of any nation. These two 
having been long complained of at Rome in the name 
of the State of Venice, and no satisfaction being 
given to the Venetians, they seized the persons of 
this Abbot and Canon, and committed them to prison. 

The justice or injustice of such, or the like power, 
then used by the Venetians, had formerly had some 
calm debates betwixt the former Pope Clement the 
Eighth and that Republic : I say, calm, for he did 
not excommunicate them ; considering, — as I con- 
ceive, — that in the late Council of Trent, it was at 
last — after many politic disturbances and delays, 
and endeavours to preserve the Pope's present 
power, — in order to a general reformation of those 
many errors, which were in time crept into the 
Church, declared by that Council, That though dis- 
cipline and especial Excommunication be one of the 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 119 

chief sinews of Church- government, and intended to keep 
men in obedience to it ; for which end it was declared, 
to be very profitable; yet it was also declared, and 
advised to be used with great sobriety and care, because 
experience had informed them, that when it was pro- 
nounced unadvisedly or rashly, it became more contemned 
than feared. And, though this was the advice of 
that Council at the conclusion of it, which was not 
many years before this quarrel with the Venetians ; 
yet this prudent, patient Pope Clement dying, Pope 
Paul the Fifth, who succeeded him, — though not 
immediately, yet in the same year, — being a man 
of a much hotter temper, brought this difference 
with the Venetians to a much higher contention} ob- 
jecting those late acts of that State to be a diminu- 
tion of his just power, and limited a time of twenty- 
four days for their revocation} threatening if he 
were not obeyed, to proceed to the Excommunica- 
tion of the Republic, who still offered to shew both 
reason and ancient custom to warrant their actions. 
But this Pope, contrary to his predecessor's mode- 
ration, required absolute obedience without dis- 
putes. 

Thus it continued for about a year, the Pope still 
threatening Excommunication, and the Venetians 
still answering him with fair speeches, and no com- 
pliance ; till at last the Pope's zeal to the Apostolic 
See did make him to excommunicate the Duke, the 
whole Senate, and all their dominions, and, that 
done, to shut up all their Churches ; charging the 



120 THE LIFE OF 

whole Clergy to forbear all sacred offices to the Ve- 
netians, till their obedience should render them 
capable of Absolution. 

But this act of the Popes, did but the more con- 
firm the Venetians in their resolution not to obey 
him : and to that end, upon the hearing of the Pope's 
interdict, they presently published, by sound of trum- 
pet 3 a Proclamation to this effect: 

That whosoever hath received from Rome any copy 
of a Papal Interdict, published there, as well against 
the Law of God, as against the honour of this nation, 
shall presently render it to the Council of Ten, upon 
pain of Death. And made it loss of estate and Nobi- 
lity, but to speak in the behalf of the Jesuits. 

Then was Duado their Ambassador called home 
from Rome, and the Inquisition presently suspended 
by order of the State : and the flood-gates being 
thus set open, any man that had a pleasant Qr scoffing 
wit, might safely vent it against the Pope, either by 
free speaking, or by libels in print ; and both be- 
came very pleasant to the people. 

Matters thus heightened, the State advised with 
Father Paul, a holy and learned Friar, — the author 
of the History of the Council of Trent, — whose advice 
was, Neither to provoke the Pope, nor lose their own 
right : he declaring publicly in print, in the name of 
the State, That the Pope was trusted to keep two 
keys, one of Prudence, and the other of Power : and 
that, if they were not both used together, Power alone 
is not effectual in an Excommunication. 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 121 

And thus these discontents and oppositions con- 
tinued, till a report was blown abroad, that the 
Venetians were all turned Protestants; which was 
believed by many, for that it was observed that the 
English Ambassador was so often in conference with 
the Senate, and his Chaplain Mr. Bedel, more often 
with Father Paul, whom the people did not take to 
be his friend : and also, for that the Republic of 
Venice was known to give commission to Gregory 
Justiniano, then their Ambassador in England, to 
make all these proceedings known to the King of 
England, and to crave a promise of his assistance, if 
need should require : and in the mean time they 
required the King's advice and judgement ; which 
was the same that he gave to Pope Clement, at his 
first coming to the Crown of England $ — that Pope 
then moving him to an union with the Roman 
Church ; — namely, To endeavour the calling of a free 
Council, for the settlement of peace in Christendom; 
and that he doubted not but that the French King, and 
divers other Princes, would join to assist in so good a 
work ; and, in the mean time, the sin of this breach, both 
with his and the Venetian dominions, must of necessity 
lie at the Pope's door. 

In this contention — which lasted almost two years 
— the Pope grew still higher, and the Venetians more 
and more resolved and careless ; still acquainting 
King James with their proceedings, which was done 
by the help of Sir Henry Wotton, Mr. Bedel, and 
Padre Paulo, whom the Venetians did then call to 



122 THE LIFE OF 

be one of their Consulters of State, and with his 
pen to defend their just cause : which was by hint 
so performed, that the Pope saw plainly he had 
weakened his power by exceeding it, and offered 
the Venetians Absolution upon very easy terms 5 
which the Venetians still slighting, did at last obtain 
by that which was scarce so much as a shew of 
acknowledging it : for they made an order, that in 
that day in which they were absolved, there should 
be no public rejoicing, nor any bonfires that night, 
lest the common people might judge, that they 
desired an Absolution, or were absolved for com- 
mitting a fault. 

These contests were the occasion of Padre Paulo's 
knowledge and interest with King James ,• for whose 
sake principally, Padre Paulo compiled that eminent 
History of the remarkable Council of Trent ; which 
history was, as fast as it was written, sent in several 
sheets in letters by Sir Henry Wotton, Mr. Bedel, 
and others, unto King James, and the then Bishop of 
Canterbury, into England, and there first made pub- 
lic, both in English and the universal language. 

For eight years after Sir Henry Wotton s going 
into Italy, he stood fair and highly valued in the 
King's opinion^ but at last became much clouded 
by an accident, which I shall proceed to relate. 

At his first going Ambassador into Italy, as he 
passed through Germany, he stayed some days at 
Augusta j where, having been in his former travels 
well known by many of the best note for learning 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 123 

and ingeniousness, — those that are esteemed the 
virtuosi of that nation, — with whom he passing an 
evening in merriments, was requested by Christophet 
Flecamore to write some sentence in his Albo j — a 
book of white paper, which for that purpose many 
of the German gentry usually carry about them : — 
and Sir Henry Wotton consenting to the motion, 
took an occasion, from some accidental discourse 
of the present company, to write a pleasant defini- 
tion of an Ambassador in these very words : 

" Legatus est vir bonus, peregre missus ad mentien~ 
" dum Reipublicce causd." 

Which Sir Henry Wotton could have been content 
should have been thus Englished : 

" An Ambassador is an honest man, sent to lie 
f< abroad for the good of his country." 

But the word for lie — being the hinge upon which 
the conceit was to turn — was not so expressed in 
Latin, as would admit — in the hands of an enemy 
especially — so fair a construction as Sir Henry 
thought in English. Yet as it was, it slept quietly 
among other sentences in this Albo, almost eight 
years, till by accident it fell into the hands of Jasper 
Scioppius, a Romanist, a man of a restless spirit and 
a malicious pen ; who, with books against King 
James, prints this as a principle of that religion 
professed by the King, and his Ambassador Sir 



124 THE LIFE OF 

Henry Wotton, then at Venice ; and in Venice it was 
presently after written in several glass-windows, 
and spitefully declared to be Sir Henry Wotton s. 

This coming to the knowledge of King James, he 
apprehended it to be such an oversight, such a 
weakness, or worse, in Sir Henry Wotton, as caused 
the King to express much wrath against him : and 
this caused Sir Henry Wotton to write two Apologies, 
one to Velserus — one of the chiefs of Augusta — in 
the universal language, which he caused to be 
printed, and given and scattered in the most re- 
markable places both of Germany and Italy, as an 
antidote against the venomous books of Scioppius ; 
and another Apology to King James ; which were 
both so ingenious, so clear, and so choicely eloquent, 
that his Majesty — who was a pure judge of it — could 
not forbear, at the receipt thereof, to declare pub- 
licly, That Sir Henry Wotton had commuted suf- 
ficiently for a greater offence. 

And now, as broken bones well set become 
stronger, so Sir Henry Wotton did not only recover, 
but was much more confirmed in his Majesty's esti- 
mation and favour than formerly he had been. 

And, as that man of great wit and useful fancy, 
his friend Dr. Donne, gave in a Will of his — a Will 
of conceits — his Reputation to his Friends, and his 
Industry to his Foes, because from thence he re- 
ceived both ; so those friends, that in this time of 
trial laboured to excuse this facetious freedom of 
Sir Henry Wotton s, were to him more dear, and by 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 125 

him more highly valued ; and those acquaintance, 
that urged this as an advantage against him, caused 
him by this error to grow both more wise, and 
— which is the best fruit error can bring forth — for 
the future to become more industriously watchful 
over his tongue and pen. 

I have told you a part of his employment in Italy ; 
where, notwithstanding the death of his favourer, 
the Duke Leonardo Donato, who had an undis- 
sembled affection for him, and the malicious accu- 
sation of Scioppius, yet his interest — as though it 
had been an entailed love — was still found to live 
and increase in all the succeeding Dukes, during his 
employment to that State, which was almost twenty 
years ; all which time he studied the dispositions 
of those Dukes, and the other Consulters of State; 
well knowing that he who negociates a continued 
business, and neglects the study of dispositions, 
usually fails in his proposed ends. But in this Sir 
Henry Wotton did not fail ; for, by a fine sorting 
of fit presents, curious, and not costly entertain- 
ments, always sweetened by various and pleasant 
discourse — with which, and his choice application 
of stories, and his elegant delivery of all these, even 
in their Italian language, he first got, and still pre- 
served, such interest in the State of Venice, that 
it was observed — such was either his merit or his 
modesty — they never denied him any request. 

But all this shews but his abilities, and his fitness 
for that employment : it will therefore be needful 



126 THELIFEOF 

to tell the Reader, what use he made of the interest 
which these procured him : and that indeed was 
rather to oblige others than to enrich himself j he 
still endeavouring that the reputation of the English 
might be maintained, both in the German Empire 
and in Italy ; where many gentlemen, whom travel 
had invited into that nation, received from him 
cheerful entertainments, advice for their behaviour, 
and, by his interest, shelter or deliverance from those 
accidental storms of adversity which usually attend 
upon travel. 

And because these things may appear to the 
Reader to be but generals, I shall acquaint him with 
two particular examples : one of his merciful dis- 
position, and one of the nobleness of his mind ; 
which shall follow. 

There had been many English Soldiers brought 
by Commanders of their own country, to serve the 
Venetians for pay against the Turk: and those 
English, having by irregularities, or improvidence, 
brought themselves into several galleys and prisons, 
Sir Henry Wotton became a petitioner to that State 
for their lives and enlargement ; and his request 
was granted : so that those — which were many 
hundreds, and there made the sad examples of 
human misery, by hard imprisonment and unpitied 
poverty in a strange nation — were by his means 
released, relieved, and in a comfortable condition 
sent to thank God and him, for their lives and liberty 
in their own country. 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 127 

And this I have observed as one testimony of 
the compassionate nature of him, who was, during 
his stay in those parts, as a city of refuge for the 
distressed of this and other nations. 

And for that which I offer as a testimony of the 
nobleness of his mind, I shall make way to the 
Reader's clearer understanding of it, by telling him, 
that beside several other foreign employments, Sir 
Henry Wotton was sent thrice Ambassador to the 
Republic of Venice. And at his last going thither, 
he was employed Ambassador to several of the 
German Princes, and more particularly to the Em- 
peror Ferdinando the Second ; and that his employ- 
ment to him, and those Princes, was to incline them 
to equitable conditions for the restoration of the 
Queen of Bohemia and her descendants, to their 
patrimonial inheritance of the Palatinate. 

This was, by his eight months' constant endea- 
vours and attendance upon the Emperor, his Court, 
and Council, brought to a probability of a successful 
conclusion, without bloodshed. But there were at 
that time two opposite armies in the field 5 and as 
they were treating, there was a battle fought, in the 
managery whereof there were so many miserable 
errors on the one side, — so Sir Henry Wotton ex- 
presses it in a dispatch to the King — and so ad- 
vantageous events to the Emperor, as put an end 
to all present hopes of a successful treaty ; so that 
Sir Henry, seeing the face of peace altered by that 
victory, prepared for a removal from that Court ; 



128 THE LIFE OF 

and at his departure from the Emperor, was so 
bold as to remember him, That the events of every 
battle move on the unseen wheels of Fortune, which are 
this moment up, and down the next; and therefore 
humbly advised him to use his victory so soberly, as still 
to put on thoughts of peace. Which advice, though it 
seemed to be spoken with some passion, — his dear 
mistress the Queen of Bohemia being concerned in 
it — was yet taken in good part by the Emperor j 
who replied, That he would consider his advice. And 
though he looked on the King his master, as an abettor 
of his enemy, the Palsgrave; yet for Sir Henry him' 
self, his behaviour had been such during the manage of 
the Treaty, that he took him to be a person of much 
honour and merit ; and did therefore desire him to ac- 
cept of that Jewel, as a testimony of his good opinion 
of him : which was a Jewel of Diamonds of more 
value than a thousand pounds. 

This Jewel was received with all outward cir- 
cumstances and terms of honour by Sir Henry Wot- 
ton. But the next morning, at his departing from 
Vienna, he, at his taking leave of the Countess of 
Sabrina, — an Italian Lady, in whose house the 
Emperor had appointed him to be lodged, and ho- 
nourably entertained — acknowledged her merits, and 
besought her to accept of that Jewel, as a testimony of 
his gratitude for her civilities ; presenting her with 
the same that was given him by the Emperor : which 
being suddenly discovered, and told to the Emperor, 
was by him taken for a high affront, and Sir Henry 




C .R.Leslie. AR.A.Knz'? 



J.MitcheTL Scalp? 



TELM 31EWM1L, 



L O N D ON. 

Published "by Jolm Major. SO. Fleet Street, 
May. 15^1825 . 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 129 

Wotton told so by a messenger. To which he replied, 
That though he received it with thankfulness, yet he 
found in himself an indisposition to be the better for any 
gift that came from an enemy to his Royal Mistress, the 
Queen of Bohemia ; for so she was pleased he should 
always call her. Many other of his services to his 
Prince and this nation might be insisted upon ; as, 
namely, his procurations of privileges and courtesies 
with the German Princes, and the Republic of Ve- 
nice, for the English Merchants : and what he did 
by direction of King James with the Venetian State, 
concerning the Bishop of Spalato's return to the 
Church of Rome. But for the particulars of these, 
and many more that I meant to make known, I want 
a view of some papers that might inform me, — his 
late Majesty's Letter-Office having now suffered a 
strange alienation, — and indeed I want time too 5 
for the Printer's press stays for what is written : so 
that I must haste to bring Sir Henry Wotton in an 
instant from Venice to London, leaving the Reader 
to make up what is defective in this place, by the 
small supplement of the Inscription under his Arms, 
which he left at all those houses where he rested, 
or lodged, when he returned from his last Embassy 
into England. 

Henricus Wottonius Anglo- Cantianus, Thomae op- 
timi viri filius natu minimus, a Serenissimo Jacobo I. 
Mag. Brit. Rege, in equestrem titulum adscitus, ejus- 
demque ter ad Rempublicam Venetam Legatus Ordi- 
narius, semel ad Confcederatarum Provinciarum Or dines 
in Juliacensi negotio. Bis ad Carolum Emanuel, Sa- 
baudiee Ducem 5 semel ad Unitos Superioris Germanise 

T 



130 



THE LIFE OF 



Principes in Conventu Heilbrunensi, postremb ad At* 
chiducem Leopoldum, Ducem Wittembergensem> 
Civitates Imperiales, Argentinam, Ulmamque, et ipsum 
Romanorum Imperatorem Ferdinandum Secundum., 
Legatus Extraordinarius, tandem hoc didicit, 

Animas fieri sapientiores quieseendo. 
[Translated in the Notes.] 
To London he came the year before King James 
died ; who having, for the reward of his foreign 
service, promised him the reversion of an office, 
which was fit to be turned into present money, which 
he wanted, for a supply of his present necessities <, 
and also granted him the reversion of the Master of 
the Rolls place, if he outlived charitable Sir Julius 
Ccesar, 




who then possessed it, and then grown so old, that 
he was said to be kept alive beyond Nature's course. 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 131 

by the prayers of those many poor which he daily 
relieved. 

But these were but in hope ; and his condition 
required a present support : for in the begin- 
ning of these employments he sold to his elder 
brother, the Lord Wotton, the rent-charge left by 
his good father 5 and — which is worse — was now 
at his return indebted to several persons, whom he 
was not able to satisfy, but by the King's payment 
of his arrears, due for his foreign employments. 
He had brought into England many servants, of 
which some were German and Italian Artists : this 
was part of his condition, who had many times 
hardly sufficient to supply the occasions of the 
day : for it may by no means be said of his provi- 
dence, as himself said of Sir Philip Sidney's wit, That 
it was the very measure of congruity, he being always 
so careless of money, as though our Saviour's words, 
Care not for to-morrow, were to be literally under- 
stood. 

But it pleased the God of Providence, that in this 
juncture of time, the Provostship of his Majesty's 
College of Eton, became void by the death of Mr. 
Thomas Murray, for which there were, as the place 
deserved,, many earnest and powerful suitors to the 
King. And Sir Henry, who had for many years 
— like Sisyphus — rolled the restless stone of a State- 
employment, knowing experimentally that the great 
blessing of sweet content was not to be found in 
multitudes of men or business, and that a College 



132 THE LIFE OF 

was the fittest place to nourish holy thoughts, and to 
afford rest both to his body and mind, which his age 
— being now almost threescore years — seemed to 
require, did therefore use his own, and the interest 
of all his friends to procure that place. By which 
means, and quitting the King of his promised re- 
versionary offices, and a piece of honest policy/— 
which I have not time to relate, — he got a grant 
of it from his Majesty. 

And this was a fair satisfaction to his mind : but 
money was wanting to furnish him with those ne- 
cessaries which attend removes, and a settlement 
in such a place 5 and, to procure that, he wrote to 
his old friend Mr. Nicholas Pey, for his assistance. 
Of which Nicholas Pey I shall here say a little, for 
the clearing of some passages that I shall mention 
hereafter. 

He was in his youth a Clerk, or in some such way 
a servant to the Lord Wotton, Sir Henry s brother ; 
and by him, when he was Comptroller of the King's 
Household, was made a great officer in his Majesty's 
house. This and- other favours being conferred 
upon Mr. Pey — in whom there was a radical honesty — 
were always thankfully acknowledged by him, and 
his gratitude expressed by a willing and unwearied 
serviceableness to that family even till his death. 
To him Sir Henry Wotton wrote, to use all his in- 
terest at Court, to procure five hundred pounds of 
his arrears, — for less would not settle him in the 
College ; and the want of such a sum wrinkled his 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 133 

face with care-, — 'twas his own expression, — and, 
that money being procured, he should the next day 
after find him in his College, and Invidke remedium 
writ over his Study door. 

This money, being part of his arrears, was, by his 
own, and the help of honest Nicholas Peys interest 
in Court, quickly procured him, and he as quickly 
in the College ,• the place, where indeed his happiness 
then seemed to have it's beginning; the College 
being to his mind as a quiet harbour to a sea-faring 
man after a tempestuous voyage j where, by the 
bounty of the pious Founder, his very food and rai- 
ment were plentifully provided for him in kind, and 
more money than enough ; where he was freed from 
all corroding cares, and seated on such a rock, as 
the waves of want could not probably shake ; where 
he might sit in a calm, and, looking down, behold 
the busy multitude turmoiled and tossed in a tem- 
pestuous sea of trouble and dangers ; and — as Sir 
William Davenant has happily expressed the like of 
another person — 

Laugh at the graver business of the State, 
Which speaks men rather wise than fortunate. 

Being thus settled according to the desires of his 
heart, his first study was the Statutes of the College; 
by which he conceived himself bound to enter into 
Holy Orders, which he did, being made Deacon with 
all convenient speed. Shortly after which time, as 
he came in his surjjlice from the Church- service, an 



134 THE LIFE OF 

old friend, a person of quality, met him so attired, 
and joyed him of his new habit. To whom Sir 
Henry Wotton replied, I thank God and the King, by 
whose goodness I now am in this condition ; a condition 
which that Emperor Charles the Fifth seemed to ap- 
prove ; who, after so many remarkable victories, when 
his glory was great in the eyes of all men, freely gave 
up his Crown, and the many cares that attended it, to 
Philip his Son, making a holy retreat to a Cloisteral 
life, where he might, by devout meditations, consult 
with God, — which the rich or busy men seldom 
do — and have leisure both to examine the errors of his 
life past, and prepare for that great day, wherein all 
flesh must make an account of their actions : and after 
a kind of tempestuous life, I now have the like advan- 
tage from him, that makes the outgoings of the morn- 
ing to praise him j even from my God, whom I daily 
magnify for this particular mercy of an exemption from 
busi7iess, a quiet mind, and a liberal maintenance, even 
in this part of my life, when my age and infirmities 
seem to sound me a retreat from the pleasures of this 
world, and invite me to contemplation, in which I have 
ever taken the greatest felicity . 

And now to speak a little of the employment of 
his time in the College. After his customary public 
Devotions, his use was to retire into his Study, and 
there to spend some hours in reading the Bible, 
and Authors in Divinity, closing up his meditations 
with private prayer ; this was, for the most part, 
his employment in the forenoon. But when he was 






SIR HENRY WOTTON. 135 

once sat to dinner, then nothing but cheerful 
thoughts possessed his mind, and those still in- 
creased by constant company at his table, of such 
persons as brought thither additions both of learn- 
ing and pleasure : but some parts of most days was 
usually spent in Philosophical conclusions. Nor did 
he forget his innate pleasure of Angling, which he 
would usually call, his idle time not idly spent ,• saying 
often, he would rather live Jive May months than 
forty Decembers. 

He was a great lover of his neighbours, and a 
bountiful entertainer of them very often at his table, 
where his meat was choice, and his discourse 
better. 

He was a constant cherisher of all those youths 
in that School, in whom he found either a constant 
diligence, or a genius that prompted them to learn- 
ing ; for whose encouragement he was — beside 
many other things of necessity and beauty — at the 
charge of setting up in it two rows of pillars, on 
which he caused to be choicely drawn the pictures 
of divers of the most famous Greek and Latin His- 
torians, Poets, and Orators • persuading them not to 
neglect Rhetoric, because Almighty God has left man- 
kind affections to be wrought upon : And he would 
often say, That none despised Eloquence, but such dull 
souls as were not capable of it. He would also often 
make choice of some observations out of those 
Historians and Poets; and would never leave the 
School, without dropping some choice Greek or 



136 THE LIFE OF 

Latin apophthegm or sentence, that might be worthy 
of a room in the memory of a growing scholar. 

He was pleased constantly to breed tip one or 
more hopeful youths, which he picked out of the 
School, and took into his own domestic care, and to 
attend him at his meals 3 out of whose discourse and 
behaviour, he gathered observations for the better 
completing of his intended work of Education : of 
which, by his still striving to make the whole better, 
he lived to leave but part to posterity. 

He was a great enemy to wrangling disputes of 
Religion ,• concerning which I shall say a little, both 
to testify that, and to shew the readiness of his wit. 

Having at his being in Rome made acquaintance 
with a pleasant Priest, who invited him one evening 
to hear their Vesper music at Church ; the Priest 
seeing Sir Henry stand obscurely in a corner, sends 
to him by a boy of the Choir this question, writ in 
a small piece of paper -, Where was your Religion to 
be found before Luther ? To which question Sir 
Henry presently underwrit, My Religion was to be 
found then, where yours is not to be found now, in the 
written Word of God. 

The next Vesper, Sir Henry went purposely to 
the same Church, and sent one of the Choir-boys 
with this question to his honest, pleasant friend, the 
Priest : Do you believe all those many thousands of 
poor Christians were damned, that were excommunicated 
because the Pope and the Duke of Venice could not 
agree about their temporal power ? even those poor 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 137 

Christians that knew not why they quarrelled. 

Speak your conscience. To which he underwrit in 

French, Monsieur, excmez-moi. 

To one that asked him, Whether a Papist may be 
saved ? he replied, You may be saved without knowing 

that. Look to yourself. 

To another, whose earnestness exceeded his 
knowledge, and was still railing against the Papists, 
he gave this advice : Pray, Sir, forbear till you have 
studied the points better : for the wise Italians have 
this Proverb : He that understands amiss concludes 
worse. And take heed of thinking, the farther you 
go from the Church of Rome, the nearer you are to 
God. 

And to another that spake indiscreet and bitter 
words against Arminius, I heard him reply to this 
purpose : 

In my travel towards Venice, as I passed through 
Germany, 2" rested almost a year at Leyden, where I 
entered into an acquaintance with Arminius, — tlien the 
Professor of Divinity in that University, — a man much 
talked of in this age, which is made up of opposition 
and controversy. And indeed, if I mistake not Ar- 
minius in his expressions, — as so weak a brain as mine 
is may easily do, — then I know I differ from him in 
some points; yet I profess my judgment of him to be, 
that he was a man of most rare learning, and I knew 
him to be of a most strict life, and of a most meek spirit. 
And that he was so mild appears by his proposals to our 
Master Perkins of Cambridge, from whose book, Of 
u 



138 THE LIFE OF 

the Order and Causes of Salvation — which first was 
writ in Latin — Arminius took the occasion of writing 
some queries to him concerning the consequents of his 
doctrine ; intending them, 'tis said, to come privately to 
Mr. Perkins' own hands, and to receive from him a like 
private and a like loving Answer. But Mr. Perkins 
died before those queries came to him, and 'tis thought 
Arminius meant them to die with him : for though he 
lived long after, I have heard he forbore to publish 
them : but since his death his sons did not. And 'tis 
pity, if God had been so pleased, that Mr. Perkins did 
not live to see, consider, and answer those proposals 
himself; for he was also of a most meek spirit, and of 
great and sanctified learning. Arid though, since their 
deaths, many of high parts and piety have undertaken to 
clear the controversy ; yet for the most part they have 
rather satisfied themselves, than convinced the dissenting 
party. And, doubtless, many middle-witted men, which 
yet may mean well, many scholars that are not in the 
highest form for learning, which yet may preach well, 
men that are but preachers, and shall never know, till 
they come to Heaven, where the questions stick betwixt 
Arminius and the Church of England, — if there be 
any, — will yet in this world be tampering with, and 
thereby perplexing the controversy, and do therefore 
justly fall wider the reproof of St. Jude,/or being busy- 
bodies, and for meddling with things they under- 
stand not. 

And here it offers itself — I think not unfitly — to 
tell the Reader, that a friend of Sir Henry Wottons 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 139 

being designed for the employment of an Ambassador, 
came to Eton, and requested from him some experi- 
mental rules for his prudent and safe carriage hi 
his negociations : to whom he smilingly gave this 
for an infallible aphorism ; That, to be in safety him- 
self, and serviceable to his country, he should always, 
and upon all occasions, speak the truth, — it seems a 
State paradox— -for, says Sir Henry Wotton, you 
shall never be believed ; and by this means your truth 
will secure yourself, if you shall ever be called to any 
account ; and it ivill also put your adversaries — who 
will still hunt counter — to a loss in all their disquisitions 
and undertakings. 

Many more of this nature might be observed j 
but they must be laid aside : for I shall here make 
a little stop, and invite the Reader to look back 
with me, whilst, according to my promise, I shall 
say a little of Sir Albertus Morton, and Mr. William 
Bedel, whom I formerly mentioned. 

I have told you that are my Reader, that at Sir 
Henry Wotton s first going Ambassador into Italy, 
his Cousin, Sir Albertus Morton, went his Secretary : 
and I am next to tell you, that Sir Albertus died 
Secretary of State to our late King ; but cannot, am 
not able to express the sorrow that possessed Sir 
Henry Wotton, at his first hearing the news that Sir 
Albertus was by death lost to him and this world. 
And yet the Reader may partly guess by these fol- 
lowing expressions : the first in a letter to his 
Nicholas Pey, of which this that followeth is a part. 

And, my dear Nich. when I had been here 



140 THE LIFE OF 

almost a fortnight, in the midst of my great contentment ', 
I received notice of Sir Albertus Morton his departure 
out of this world, who was dearer to me than mine own 
being in it : what a wound it is to my heart, you thai 
knew him, and know me, will easily believe ; but our 
Creator s will must be done, and unrepiningly received 
by his own creatures, who is the Lord of all Nature and 
of all Fortune, when he taketh to himself now one, and 
then another, till that expected day, wherein it shall 
please him to dissolve the whole, and wrap up even 
the Heaven itself as a scroll of parchment. This is the 
last philosophy that we must study upon earth ; let us 
therefore, that yet remain here, as our days and friends 
waste, reinforce our love to each other; which of all 
virtues, both spiritual and moral, hath the highest 
privilege, because death itself cannot end it. And my 
good Nich. #c. 

This is a part of his sorrow thus expressed to his 
Nich. Pey : the other part is in this following Elegy, 
of which the Reader may safely conclude it was too 
hearty to be dissembled. 



TEARS 



WEPT AT THE GRAVE OF SIR ALBERTUS MORTON^ 
BY HENRY WOTTON. 

Silence, in truth, would speak my sorrow best, 
For deepest wounds can least their feelings tell : 
Yet, let me borrow from mine own unrest, 
A time to bid him, whom I lovd, farewell. 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 141 

Oh, my unhappy lines ! you that before 
Have servd my youth to vent some wanton cries, 
And now, congealed with grief, can scarce implore ' 
Strength to accent, Here my Albertus lies. 

This is that sable stone, this is the cave 
And womb of earth, that doth his corse embrace ; 
While others sing his praise, let me engrave 
These bleeding numbers to adorn the place. 

Here will I paint the characters of woe) 
Here will I pay my tribute to the dead ; 
And here my faithful tears in showers shall flow, 
To humanize the flints on which I tread. 

Where, though I mourn my matchless loss alone, 
And none between my weakness judge and me ; 
Yet even these pensive walls allow my moan, 
Whose doleful echoes to my plaints agree. 

But is he gone ? and live I rhyming here, 
As if some Muse would listen to my lay ? 
When all distund sit waiting for their dear, 
And bathe the banks where he was wont to play. 

Dwell then in endless bliss with happy souls, 
Discharg dfrom Nature's and from Fortune's trust - f 
Whilst on this fluid globe my hour-glass rolls, 
And runs the rest of my remaining dust. 

H. W. 



142 THE LIFE OF 

This concerning his Sir Albertus Morton. 
And for what I shall say concerning Mr. William 
Bedel, I must prepare the Reader by telling him, 
that when King James sent Sir Henry Wotton Am- 
bassador to the State of Venice, he sent also an Am- 
bassador to the King of France, and another to the 
King of Spain. With the Ambassador of France 
went Joseph Hall, late Bishop of Norwich, whose 
many and useful works speak his great merit : with 
the Ambassador to Spain went James Wadsworth ; 
and with Sir Henry Wotton went William Bedel. 

These three Chaplains to these three Ambassa- 
dors were all bred in one University, all of one 
College,* all beneficed in one 
inTambridge^ 6 Diocese, and all most dear and 
entire friends. But in Spain, Mr. 
Wadsworth met with temptations, or reasons, such 
as were so powerful as to persuade him — who of 
the three was formerly observed to be the most 
averse to that Religion that calls itself Catholic — to 
disclaim himself a member of the Church of Eng- 
land, and to declare himself for the Church of Rome ,• 
discharging himself of his attendance on the Am- 
bassador, and betaking himself to a monasterial 
life, in which he lived very regularly, and so died. 

When Dr. Hall, the late Bishop of Norwich, came 
into England, he wrote to Mr. Wadsworth, — it is the 
first Epistle in his printed Decades, — to persuade his 
return, or to shew the reason of his apostacy. The 
letter seemed to have in it many sweet expressions 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 143 

of love ; and yet there was in it some expression 
that was so unpleasant to Mr. Wadsworth, that he 
chose rather to acquaint his old friend Mr. Bedel 
with his motives ; by which means there passed 
betwixt Mr. Bedel and Mr. Wadsworth, divers letters 
which be extant in print, and did well deserve it ; 
for in them there seems to be a controversy, not of 
Religion only, but who should answer each other 
with most love and meekness 3 which I mention 
the rather, because it too seldom falls out to be so 
in a book -war. 

There is yet a little more to be said of Mr. Bedel, 
for the greatest part of which the Reader is referred 
to this following letter of Sir Henry Wottons, writ- 
ten to our late King Charles the First : 

May it please Your most Gracious Majesty, 
Having been informed that certain persons have, by 
the good wishes of the Archbishop of Armagh, been 
directed hither, with a most humble petition unto your 
Majesty, that you will be pleased to make Mr. William 
Bedel — now resident upon a small benefice in Suffolk — 
Governor of your College at Dublin, for the good of 
that Society ; and myself being required to render unto 
your Majesty some testimony of the said William Bedel, 
who was long my Chaplain at Venice, in the time of 
my first employment there, I am bound in all conscience 
and truth — so far as your Majesty will vouchsafe to 
accept my poor judgment — to affirm of him, that I think 
hardly a fitter man for that charge could have been 



144 THE LIFE OF 

propounded unto your Majesty in your whole kingdom, 
for singular erudition and piety, conformity to the rites 
of the Church, and zeal to advance the cause of God, 
wherein his travails abroad were not obscure in the time 
of the Excommunication of the Venetians. 

For it may please your Majesty to know, that this is 
the man whom Padre Paulo took, I may say, into his 
very soul, with whom he did communicate the inwardest 
thoughts of his heart ;from whom he professed to have re- 
ceived more knowledge in all Divinity, both scholastical 
and positive, than from any that he had ever practised 
in his days ; of which all the passages were well known 
to the King your Father, of most blessed memory. And 
so, with your Majesty's good favour, I will end this 
needless office; for the general fame of his learning, his 
life, and Christian temper, and those religious labours 
which himself hath dedicated to your Majesty, do better 
describe him than I am able. 

Your Majesty's 
Most humble and faithful servant, 

H. WOTTON. 

To this letter I shall add this j that he was — to 

the great joy of Sir Henry Wotton — made Governor 

, ™« of the sa id College :* and that, after 
* Aug. 1627. 

a fair discharge of his duty and trust 

there, he was thence removed to be Bishop of 

Kilmore.f In both places his life 
f Sept. 3, 1629. ^ 

was so holy, as seemed to equal the 

primitive Christians : for as they, so he kept all the 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 145 

Ember-weeks, observed — besides his private devo- 
tions — the canonical hours of prayer very strictly, 
and so he did all the Feasts and Fast- days of his 
mother, the Church of England. To which I may 
add, that his patience and charity were both such, 
as shewed his affections were set upon things that 
are above ; for indeed his whole life brought forth 
the fruits of the spirit ; there being in him such a 
remarkable meekness, that as St. Paul advised his 
Timothy in the election of a Bishop, That he have a 

qood report of those that be without :* so 

? ,, , + , ,-u ' 4 * 1 Tim. iii. 7. 

had he : tor those that were without, 

even those that in point of Religion were of the 
Roman persuasion, — of which there were very many 
in his Diocese, — did yet — such is the power of 
visible piety — ever look upon him with respect and 
reverence, and testified it by a concealing, and safe 
protecting him from death in the late horrid Rebel- 
lion in Ireland, when the fury of the wild Irish knew 
no distinction of persons -, and yet, there and then 
he was protected and cherished by those of a con- 
trary persuasion ; and there and then he died, not 
by violence or misusage, but by grief in a quiet 
prison (1629). And with him was lost many of his 
learned writings which were thought worthy of pre- 
servation ; and amongst the rest was lost the Bible, 
which by many years labour, and conference, and 
study, he had translated into the Irish tongue, with 
an intent to have printed it for public use. 

More might be said of Mr. Bedel, who, I told the 



146 THE LIFE Otf 

Reader, was Sir Henry Wottoris first Chaplain ; and 
much of his second Chaplain, Isaac Bargrave, Doc- 
tor in Divinity, and the late learned and hospitable 
Dean of Canterbury ; as also of the merits of many 
others, that had the happiness to attend Sir Henry 
in his foreign employments : but the Reader may 
think that in this digression I have already earried 
him too far from Eton College, and therefore I shall 
lead him back as gently and as orderly as I may to 
that place, for a further conference concerning Sir 
Henry Wotton. 

Sir Henry Wotton had proposed: to himself, before 
he entered into his Collegiate life, to write the Life 
of Martin Luther, and in it the History of the Re- 
formation, as it was carried on in Germany: for 
the doing of which he had many advantages by his 
several Embassies into those parts, and his interest 
in the several Princes of the Empire ; by whose 
means he had access to the Records of all the Hans 
Towns, and the knowledge of many secret passages 
that fell not under common view j and in these he 
had made a happy progress, as was well known to 
his worthy friend Dr. Duppa, the late reverend Bi- 
shop of Salisbury. But in the midst of this design, 
his late Majesty King Charles the First, that knew 
the value of Sir Henry Wotton 's pen, did, by a per- 
suasive loving violence — to which may be added a 
promise of 500/. a year — force him to lay Luther 
aside, and betake himself to write the History of 
England; in which he proceeded to write some 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 147 

short characters of a few Kings, as a foundation upon 
which he meant to build ; but, for the present, 
meant to be more large in the story of Henry the 
Sixth, the Founder of that College, in which he then 
enjoyed all the worldly happiness of his present 
being. But Sir Henry died in the midst of this un- 
dertaking, and the footsteps of his labours are not 
recoverable by a more than common diligence. 

This is some account both of his inclination, and 
the employment of his time in the College, where 
he seemed to have his youth renewed by a con- 
tinual conversation with that learned society, and a 
daily recourse of other friends of choicest breeding 
and parts -, by which that great blessing of a cheer^ 
ful heart was still maintained j he being always free, 
even to the last of his days, from that peevishness 
which usually attends age. 

And yet his mirth was sometimes damped by the 
remembrance of divers old debts, partly contracted 
in his foreign employments, for which his just ar- 
rears due from the King would have made satisfac- 
tion : but being still delayed with Court-promises, 
and finding some decays of health, he did, about two 
years before his death, out of a Christian desire that 
none should be a loser by him, make his last Will; 
concerning which a doubt still remains, namely, 
whether it discovered more holy wit, or conscionable 
policy. But there is no doubt but that his chief 
design, was a Christian endeavour that his debts 
might be satisfied. 



148 THE LIFE OF 

And that it may remain as such a testimony, and 
a legacy to those that loved him, I shall here impart 
it to the Reader, as it was found written with his 
own hand. 

In the name of God Almighty and All-merciful, I 
Henry Wotton, Provost of his Majesty's College by 
Eton, being mindful of mine own mortality, which the 
the sin of our first parents did bring upon all flesh, do 
by this last Will and Testament thus dispose of myself 
and the poor things I shall leave in this world, My 
Soul I bequeath to the Immortal God my Maker, Father 
of our Lord Jesus Christ, my blessed Redeemer and Me- 
diator, through his all sole-sufficient satisfaction for the 
sins of the whole world, and efficient for his elect-, in 
the number of whom I am one by his mere grace, and 
thereof most unremoveably assured by his Holy Spirit, 
the true eternal Comforter. My Body I bequeath to 
the earth, if I shall end my transitory days, at or near 
Eton, to be buried in the Chapel of the said College, as 
the Fellows shall dispose thereof, with whom I have 
lived — my God knows — in all loving affection ; or if 
I shall die near Bocton Malherbe, in the County of 
Kent, then I wish to be laid in that Parish-Church, as 
near as may be to the Sepulchre of my good father, 
expecting a joyful resurrection with him in the day of 
Christ. 

After this account of his faith, and this surrender 
of his soul to that God that inspired it, and this di- 
rection for the disposal of his body, he proceeded to 
appoint that his Executors should lay over his grave 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 149 

a marble stone, plain, and not costly : and consider- 
ing that time moulders even marble to 
dust, — for* — Monuments themselves must Sat YT46. 
die ; therefore did he — waving the com- 
mon way — think fit rather to preserve his name — 
to which the son of Sirach adviseth all men — by a 
useful Apophthegm, than by a large enumeration of 
his descent or merits, of both which he might justly 
have boasted ; but he was content to forget them, 
and did choose only this prudent, pious sentence, to 
discover his disposition, and preserve his memory. 
It was directed by him to be thus inscribed : 

Hie jacet hujus Sententice primus Author : 

DISPUTANDI PRURITUS, ECCLESIARUM 
SCABIES. 

Nomen alias quaere. 

Which may be Englished thus : 

Here lies the first Author of this Sentence : 

THE ITCH OF DISPUTATION WILL PROVE 

THE SCAB OF THE CHURCH. 

Inquire his Name elsewhere. 

And if any shall object, as I think some have, 
that Sir Henry Wotton was not the first author of 
this sentence : but that this, or a sentence like it, 
was long before his time ; to him I answer, that 
Solomon says, Nothing can be spoken, that hath not 
been spoken ; for there is no new thing under the sun. 



150 THE LIFE OF 

But grant, that in his various reading he had met 
with this, or a like sentence, yet reason mixed with 
charity should persuade all Readers to believe, that 
Sir Henry Wottons mind was then so fixed on that 
part of the communion of Saints which is above, 
that an holy lethargy did surprise his memory. For 
doubtless, if he had not believed himself to be the 
first author of what he said, he was too prudent 
first to own, and then expose it to the public view 
and censure of every critic. And questionless it will 
be charity in all Readers to think his mind was then 
so fixed on Heaven, that a holy zeal did transport 
him 5 and that, in this sacred ecstacy, his thoughts 
were then only of the Church Triumphant, into 
which he daily expected his admission ; and that 
Almighty God was then pleased to make him a 
Prophet, to tell the Church Militant, and particularly 
that part of it in this nation, where the weeds of 
controversy grow to be daily both more numerous 
and more destructive to humble piety $ and where 
men have consciences that boggle at ceremonies, 
and yet scruple not to speak and act such sins as the 
ancient humble Christians believed to be a sin to 
think 5 and where, our reverend Hooker says, former 
simplicity, and softness of spirit, is not now to be found, 
because Zeal hath drowned Charity, and Skill, Meekness. 
It will be good to think, that these sad changes have 
proved this Epitaph to be a useful caution unto us 
of this nation ; and the sad effects thereof in Ger- 
many have proved it to be a mournful truth. 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 151 

This by way of observation concerning his Epi- 
taph; the rest of his Will follows in his own words.. 

Further, I the said Henry Wotton, do constitute and 
ordain to be joint Executors of this my last Will and 
Testament, my two Grand-nephews, Albert Morton, 
second son to Sir Robert Morton, Knight, late deceased, 
and Thomas Bargrave, eldest son to Dr. Bargrave, 
Dean of Canterbury, husband to my right virtuous and 
only Niece. And I do pray the foresaid Dr. Bargrave, 
and Mr. Nicholas Pey, my most faithful and chosen 
friends, together with Mr. John Harrison, one of the 
Fellows of Eton College, best acquainted with my books, 
and pictures, and other utensils, to be Supervisors of this 
my last Will and Testament. And I do pray the fore- 
said Dr. Bargrave, and Mr. Nicholas Pey, to be so- 
licitors for such arrearages as shall appear due unto me 
from his Majesty's Exchequer at the time of my death ; 
and to assist my forenamed Executors in some reason- 
able and conscientious satisfaction of my creditors, and 
discharge of my legacies now specified ; or that shall be 
hereafter added unto this my Testament, by any Codicil 
or Schedule, or left in the hands, or in any memorial 
with the aforesaid Mr. John Harrison. And first, to 
my most dear Sovereign and Master, of incomparable 
goodness, — in whose gracious opinion I have ever had 
some portion, as far as the interest of a plain honest 
man, — I leave four pictures at large of those Dukes of 
Venice, in whose time I ivas there employed, with their 
names written on the back side, which hang in my great 



152 THE LIFE OF 

ordinary Dining room, done after the life by Edoardo 
Fialetto : likewise a table of the Venetian College, 
where Ambassadors had their audience, hanging over the 
mantle of the chimney in the said room, done by the same 
hand, which containeth a draught in little, well resem- 
bling the famous Duke Leonardo Donato, in a time 
which needed a wise and constant man. Item. The 
picture of a Duke of Venice, hanging over against the 
door, done either by Titiano, or some other principal 
hand, long before my time. Most humbly beseeching his 
Majesty, that the said pieces may remain in some corner 
of any of his houses, for a poor memorial of his most 
humble vassal. 

Item. I leave his said Majesty all the papers and 
negotiations of Sir Nich. Throgmorton, Knight, dur- 
ing his famous employment under Queen Elizabeth, in 
Scotland, and in France • which contain divers secrets 
of State, that perchance his Majesty will think fit to be 
preserved in his Paper- Office, after they have been pe-r 
rused and sorted by Mr. Secretary Windebank, with 
whom I have heretofore, as I remember, conferred about 
them. They were committed to my disposal by Sir 
Arthur Throgmorton, his Son, to whose worthy me- 
mory I cannot better discharge my faith, than by assign- 
ing them to the highest place of trust. Item. I leave 
to our most gracious and virtuous Queen Mary, Dios- 
corides, with the plants naturally coloured, and the text 
translated by Matthiolo, in the best language of Tus- 
cany, whence her said Majesty is lineally descended, for 
a poor token of my thankful devotion, for the honour she 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 153 

was once pleased to do my private Study with her pre- 
sence. Heave to the most hopeful Prince, the picture of 
the elected and crowned Queen of Bohemia, his Aunt, 
of clear and resplendent virtues, through the clouds of 
her fortune. To my Lord's Grace of Canterbury now 
being, I leave my picture of Divine Love, rarely co- 
pied from one in the King's galleries, of my presentation 
to his Majesty ; beseeching him to receive it as a pledge 
of my humble reverence to his great wisdom. And to 
the most worthy Lord Bishop of London, Lord High 
Treasurer of England, in true admiration of his Chris- 
tian simplicity and contempt of earthly pomp, I leave a 
picture of Her&clitus bewailing, and Democritus laugh- 
ing at the world ; most humbly beseeching the said Lord 
Archbishop his Grace, and the Lord Bishop of London, 
of both whose favours I have tasted in my life-time, to 
intercede with our most gracious Sovereign after my 
death, in the bowels of Jesus Christ, that out of com- 
passionate memory of my long services, — wherein I more 
studied the public honour than mine own utility ,— some 
order may be taken out of my arrears due in the Ex- 
chequer, for such satisfaction of my creditors, as those 
whom I have ordained Supervisors of this my last Will 
and Testament shall present unto their Lordships, 
without their farther trouble ; hoping likewise in his 
Majesty's most indubitable goodness, that he will keep 
me from all prejudice, which I may otherwise suffer by 
any defect of formality in the demand of my said ar- 
rears. To for a poor addition to his Cabinet, I 

leave, as emblems of his attractive virtues and obliging 
nobleness, my great Loadstone, and a piece of Amber, 



154 THE LIFE OF 

of both kinds naturally united, and only differing in de- 
gree of concoction, which is thought somewhat rare. 
Item, a piece of Chrystal Sexangular — as they grow 
all — grasping divers several things within it, which I 
bought among the Rhaetian Alps, in the very place 
where it grew ; recommending most humbly unto his 
Lordship, the reputation of my poor name in the point 
of my debts, as I have done to the forenamed Spiritual 
Lords, and am heartily sorry that I have no better token 
of my humble thankfulness to his honoured person. Item. 
I leave to Sir Francis Windebank, one of his Majesty's 
principal Secretaries of State, — whom I found my great 
friend in point of necessity, — the four Seasons of old 
Bassano, to hang near the eye in his Parlour, — being 
in little form, — which I bought at Venice, where 1 first 
entered into his most worthy acquaintance. 

To the above-named Dr. Bargrave, Dean of Canter- 
bury, I leave all my Italian Books not disposed in this 
Will. I leave to him likewise my Viol de Gamba, 
which hath been twice with me in Italy, in which country 
I first contracted with him an unremoveable affection. 
To my other Supervisor, Mr. Nicholas Pey, I leave my 
Chest, or Cabinet of Instruments and Engines of all 

* T .,. r . ,. , , kinds of uses : in the lower box 

* In it were Italian locks, J 

pick-locks, screws to force whereof, are some* fit to be 
open doors, and many things 7 ■, , . ■ T . 

of worth and rarity, that he bequeathed to none but so 

had gathered in his foreign entire an honest man as he 

tl*fl.Vftl 

is. I leave him likewise forty 
pounds for his pains in the solicitation of my arrears; 
and am sorry that my ragged estate can reach no far- 
ther to one that hath taken such care for me in the same 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 155 

kind, during all my foreign employments. To the 
Library at Eton College, I leave all my Manuscripts 
not before disposed, and to each of the Fellows a plain 
Ring of gold, enamelled black, all save the verge, with 
this motto within, Amor unit omnia. 

This is my last Will and Testament, save what shall 
be added by a Schedule thereunto annexed, written on 
the First of October, in the present Year of our Redemp- 
tion, 1637, and subscribed by myself, with the testimony 

of these Witnesses. 

Henry Wotton. 
Nich. Oudert. 

Geo. Lash. 

And now, because the mind of man is best satis- 
fied by the knowledge of events, I think fit to de- 
clare, that every one that was named in his Will 
did gladly receive their legacies : by which, and 
his most just and passionate desires for the payment 
of his debts, they joined in assisting the Overseers 
of his Will ; and by their joint endeavours to the 
King, — than whom none was more willing — con- 
scionable satisfaction was given for his just debts. 

The next thing wherewith I shall acquaint the 
Reader is, that he went usually once a year, if not 
oftener, to the beloved Bocton Hall, where he would 
say, He found a cure for all cares, by the cheerful com- 
pany, which he called the living furniture of that place : 
and a restoration of his strength, by the connaturalness 
of that which he called his genial air. 

He yearly went also to Oxford. But the Summer 
before his death he changed that for a journey to 



156 THE LIFE OF 

Winchester College, to which School he was first re- 
moved from Bocton. And as he returned from Win- 
chester towards Eton College, said to a friend, his 
companion in that journey ; How useful was that ad- 
vice of a holy Monk, who persuaded his friend to per- 
form his customary devotions in a constant place, 
because in that place we usually meet with those 
very thoughts which possessed us at our last being 
there ! And I find it thus far experimentally true, 
that at my now being in that School, and seeing that 
very place where I sat when I was a boy, occasioned me 
to remember those very thoughts of my youth which then 
possessed me : sweet thoughts indeed, that promised my 
growing years numerous pleasures, without mixtures of 
cares ; and those to be enjoyed, when time — which I 
therefore thought slow -paced — had changed my youth 
into manhood. Bui age and experience have taught me 
that those were but empty hopes ,• for I have always 
found it true, as my Saviour did foretell, Sufficient for 
the day is the evil thereof. Nevertheless, I saw there 
a succession of boys using the same recreations, and, 
questionless, possessed with the same thoughts that then 
possessed me. Thus one generation succeeds another, both 
in their lives, recreations, hopes, fears, and death. 

After his return from Winchester to Eton, which 
was about five months before his death, he became 
much more retired and contemplative : in which 
time he was often visited by Mr. John Hales, — 
learned Mr. John Hales, — then a Fellow of that Col- 
lege, to whom upon an occasion he spake to this 
purpose : I have, in my passage to my grave, met with 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 157 

most of those joys of which a discoursive soul is capable; 
and been entertained with more inferior pleasures than 
the sons of men are usually made partakers of: never- 
theless, in this voyage I have not always floated on the 
calm sea of content ; but have often met with cross winds 
and storms, and with many troubles of mind and temp- 
tations to evil. And yet, though I have been, and am 
a man compassed about with human frailties, Almighty 
God hath by his grace prevented me from making ship- 
wreck of faith and a good conscience, the thought of 
which is now the joy of my heart, and I most humbly 
praise him for it : and I humbly acknowledge that it 
was not myself, but he that hath kept me to this great 
age, and let him take the glory of his great mercy. — ■ 
And, my dear friend, I now see that I draw near my 
harbour of death; that harbour that will secure me 
from all the future storms and waves of this restless 
ivorld; and I praise God lam willing to leave it, and ex- 
pect a better ; that world wherein dwelleth righteous- 
ness j and I long for it ! 

These and the like expressions, were then uttered 
by him at the beginning of a feverish distemper, at 
which time he was also troubled with an Asthma, or 
short spitting : but after less than twenty fits, by the 
help of familiar physic and a spare diet, this fever 
abated, yet so as to leave him much weaker than it 
found him ; and his Asthma seemed also to be over- 
come in a good degree by his forbearing tobacco, 
which, as many thoughtful men do, he also had 
taken somewhat immoderately. This was his then 
present condition, and thus he continued till about 



158 THE LIFE OF 

the end of October, 1639, which was about a month 
before his death, at which time he again fell into a 
c ever, which though he seemed to recover, yet these 
still left him so weak, that they, and those other 
common infirmities that accompany age, were wont 
to visit him like civil friends, and after some short 
time to leave him, — came now both oftener and with 
more violence, and at last took up their constant 
habitation with him, still weakening his body and 
abating his cheerfulness ; of both which he grew 
more sensible, and did the oftener retire into his 
Study, and there made many papers that had passed 
his pen, both in the days of his youth and in the 
busy part of his life, useless, by a fire made there 
to that purpose. These, and several unusual ex- 
pressions to his servants and friends, seemed to 
foretell that the day of his death drew near ; for 
which he seemed to those many friends that ob- 
served him, to be well prepared, and to be both 
patient and free from all fear, as several of his let- 
ters writ on this his last sick-bed may testify. And 
thus he continued till about the beginning of Decem- 
ber following, at which time he was seized more 
violently with a Quotidian fever ; in the tenth fit of 
which fever, his better part, that part of Sir Henry 
Wotton which could not die, put off mortality with 
as much content and cheerfulness as human frailty 
is capable of, being then in great tranquillity of 
mind, and in perfect peace with God and man. 

And thus the circle of Sir Henry Wotton s life — 
that circle which began at Bocton, and in the cir- 



SIR HENRY WOTTON. 159 

cumference thereof did first touch at Winchester School, 
then at Oxford, and after upon so many remarkable 
parts and passages in Christendom — that circle of his 
Life was by Death thus closed up and completed, in 
the seventy and second year of his age, at Eton Col- 
lege , where, according to his Will, he now lies 
buried, with his Motto on a plain Grave-stone over 
him : dying worthy of his name and family, worthy 
of the love and favour of so many Princes, snd per- 
sons of eminent wisdom and learning, worthy of the 
trust committed unto him, for the service of his 
Prince and Country. 

And all Readers are requested to believe } that he was 
worthy of a more worthy pen, to have preserved his 
Memory, and commended his Merits to the imitation 
of posterity . . Iz. Wa. 



ELEGY ON SIR HENRY WOTTON, 

WRIT BY 

MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY. 

What shall we say, since silent now is he, 
Who when he spoke all things would silent be ? 
Who had so many languages in store, 
That only Fame shall speak of him in more. 
Whom England now no more return'd, must see 
He's gone to Heaven, on M\s fourth embassy. 
On earth he travelFd often, not to say, 
He'd been abroad to pass loose time away j 
For in whatever land he chanced to come, 
He read the men and manners ; bringing home 



160 



THE LIFE, &c. 



Their wisdom, learning, and their piety, 
As if he went to conquer, not to see. 
So well he understood the most and best 
Of tongues that Babel sent into the West ; 
Spoke them so truly, that he had, you'd swear, 
Not only liv'd, but been born every-where. 
Justly each nation's speech to him was known, 
Who for the world was made, not us alone ; 
Nor ought the language of that man be less, 
Who in his breast had all things to express. 
We say that learning's endless, and blame Fate 
For not allowing- life a longer date, 
He did the utmost bounds of Knowledge find, 
And found them not so large as was his mind ; 
But, like the brave Pellean youth, did moan, 
Because that Art had no more worlds than one. 
And when he saw that he through all had past, 
He died — lest he should idle grow at last. 

A. Cowley. 






F .^EiLtflelieait Sculps 



IRE ©MARIO) 3HI(Q><D>I£3EIS 



L o jst d o isr. 

Tu"blisked>7 JoTm Major, 50. Fleet Street, 
Msy,15^1SZ5. 



THE LIFE 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER 



THE AUTHOR OF THOSE LEARNED BOOKS 



OF THE 



LAWS OF ECCLESIASTICAL POLITY. 




jbst *%r 



LONDON: 

JOHN MAJOR, 

MDCCCXXV. 



INTRODUCTION 

TO 

THE LIFE 

OF 

RICHARD HOOKER. 

I have been persuaded, by a friend whom I reverence, 
and ought to obey, to write the Life of Richard Hooker ; 
the happy Author of Five— if not more — of the Eight 
learned books of The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity. And 
though I have undertaken it, yet it hath been with some 
unwillingness : because I foresee that it must prove to 
me, and especially at this time of my age, a work of much 
labour to enquire, consider, research, and determine, what 
is needful to be known concerning him. For I knew him 
not in his life, and must therefore not only look back to 
his death, — now sixty-four years past — but almost fifty 
years beyond that, even to his childhood and youth ; and 
gather thence such observations and prognostics, as may 
at least adorn, if not prove necessary for the completing 
of what 1 have undertaken. 

This trouble I foresee, and foresee also that it is impos- 
sible to escape censures ; against which I will not hope 
my well-meaning and diligence can protect me, — for I 
consider the age in which I live — and shall therefore but 
intreat of my Reader a suspension of his censures, till I 
have made known unto him some reasons, which I myself 
would now gladly believe do make me in some measure 
fit for this undertaking: and if these reasons shall not ac- 
quit me from all censures, they may at least abate of their 
severity, and this is all I can probably hope for. My rea- 
sons follow. 

About forty years past — for I am now past the seventy 
of my age — I began a happy affinity with William Cran- 
mer,-~ now with God,— grand-nephew unto the great Arch- 
bishop of that name ; a family of noted prudence and re- 
solution ; with him and two of his sisters I had an entire 
and free friendship : one of them was the wife of Dr. 
Spencer, a bosom-friend and sometime corn-pupil with 
Mr. Hooker in Corpus Christi College in Oxford, and after 
President of the same. I name them here, for that I shall 



INTRODUCTION. 

have occasion to mention them in the following discourse ; 
as also George Cranmer, their brother, of whose useful 
abilities my Reader may have a more authentic testimony 
than my pen can purchase for him, by that of our learned 
Camden, and others. 

This William Cranmer and his two fore-named sisters 
had some affinity, and a most familiar friendship, with Mr. 
Hooker, and had had some part of their education with 
him in his house, when he was parson of Bishop- 's-Bourne 
near Canterbury ; in which City their good father then 
lived. They had, I say, a part of their education with 
him, as myself, since that time, a happy cohabitation with 
them ; and having some years before read part of Mr, 
Hoohefs works with great liking and satisfaction, my af- 
fection to them made me a diligent inquisitor into many 
things that concerned him -, as namely, of his person, his 
nature, the management of his time, his wife, his family, 
and the fortune of him and his. Which enquiry hath 
given me much advantage in the knowledge of what is 
now under my consideration, and intended for the satis- 
faction of my Reader. 

I had also a friendship with the Reverend Dr. Ushet% 
the late learned Archbishop of Armagh; and with Dr. 
Morton, the late learned and charitable Bishop of Durham ; 
as also the learned John Hales, of Eton College ; and 
with them also — who loved the very name of Mr. Hooker 
■ — I have had many discourses concerning him ; and from 
them, and many others that have now put off mortality, I 
might have had more informations, if I could then have 
admitted a thought of any fitness, for what by persuasion 
I have now undertaken. But though that full harvest be 
irrecoverably lost, yet my memory hath preserved some 
gleanings, and my diligence made such additions to them, 
as I hope will prove useful to the completing of what I 
intend: in the discovery of which I shall be faithful, and 
with this assurance put a period to my Introduction. 





THE LIFE 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 



t is not to be doubted, but that 
Richard Hooker was born at 
Heavy-tree, near, or within the 
precincts, or in the City of 
Exeter ; a City which may justly 
boast, that it was the birth- 
place of him and Sir Thomas 
Bodley ; as indeed the County 
may, in which it stands, that it hath furnished this 
nation with Bishop Jewel, Sir Francis Drake, Sir 
Walter Raleigh, and many others, memorable for 







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166 THE LIFE OF 

their valour and learning. He was born about the 
year of our Redemption 1553, and of parents that 
were not so remarkable for their extraction or riches, 
as for their virtue and industry, and God's blessing 
upon both 5 by which they were enabled to educate 
their children in some degree of learning, of which 
our Richard Hooker may appear to be one fair testi- 
mony, and that Nature is not so partial as always 
to give the great blessings of wisdom and learning, 
and with them the greater blessings of virtue and 
government, to those only that are of a more high 
and honourable birth. 

His complexion — if we may guess by him at the 
age of forty — was sanguine, with a mixture of 
choler ; and yet his motion was slow even in his 
youth, and so was his speech, never expressing an 
earnestness in either of them, but an humble gravity 
suitable to the aged. And it is observed, — so far 
as enquiry is able to look back at this distance of 
time, — that at his being a school-boy he was an 
early questionist, quietly inquisitive Why this was, 
and that was not, to be remembered ? Why this was 
granted, and that denied ? This being mixed with a 
remarkable modesty, and a sweet serene quietness 
of nature, and with them a quick apprehension of 
many perplexed parts of learning, imposed then 
upon him as a scholar, made his Master and others 
to believe him to have an inward blessed divine 
light, and therefore to consider him to be a little 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 167 

wonder. For in that, children were less pregnant, 
less confident, and more malleable, than in this 
wiser, but not better, age. 

This meekness and conjuncture of knowledge, 
with modesty in his conversation, being observed 
by his School-master, caused him to persuade his 
parents — who intended him for an apprentice — to 
continue him at school till he could find out some 
means, by persuading his rich Uncle, or some other 
charitable person, to ease them of a part of their 
care and charge ; assuring them, that their son was 
so enriched with the blessings of nature and grace, 
that God seemed to single him out as a special in- 
strument of his glory. And the good man told them 
also, that he would double his diligence in instruct- 
ing him, and would neither expect nor receive any 
other reward, than the content of so hopeful and 
happy an employment. 

This was not unwelcome news, and especially to 
his Mother, to whom he was a dutiful and dear 
child ; and all parties were so pleased with this 
proposal, that it was resolved so it should be. And 
in the mean time his Parents and Master laid a 
foundation for his future happiness, by instilling 
into his soul the seeds of piety, those conscientious 
principles of loving and fearing God, of an early be- 
lief that he knows the very secrets of our souls ; that he 
punisheth our vices, and rewards our innocence; that 
we should be free from hypocrisy, and appear to man 



168 THE LIFE OF 

what we are to God, because first or last the crafty man 
is catched in his own snare. These seeds of piety 
were so seasonably planted, and so continually 
watered with the daily dew of God's blessed Spirit, 
that his infant virtues grew into such holy habits, 
as did make him grow daily into more and more 
favour both with God and man $ which, with the 
great learning that he did after attain to, hath made 
Richard Hooker honoured in this, and will continue 
him to be so to succeeding generations. 

This good School-master, whose name I am not 
able to recover,— and am sorry, for that I would 
have given him a better memorial in this humble 
monument, dedicated to the memory of his scholar, 
— was very solicitous with John Hooker, then Cham- 
berlain of Exeter, and Uncle to our Richard, to take 
his Nephew into his care, and to maintain him for 
one year in the University, and in the mean time to 
use his endeavours to procure an admission for him 
into some College, though it were but in a mean 
degree ; still urging and assuring him, that his 
charge would not continue long ; for the lad's learn- 
ing and manners were both so remarkable, that they 
must of necessity be taken notice of j and that 
doubtless God would provide him some second 
patron, that would free him and his Parents from 
their future care and charge. 

These reasons, with the affectionate rhetoric of 
his good Master, and God's blessing upon both^ 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 169 

procured from his Uncle a faithful promise, that he 
would take him into his care and charge before the 
expiration of the year following, which was per- 
formed by him, and with the assistance of the 
learned Mr. John Jewel; of whom this may be 
noted, that he left, or was about the first of Queen 
Marys reign expelled out of Corpus Christi College 
in Oxford, — of which he was a Fellow, — for adhering 
to the truth of those principles of Religion, to which 
he had assented and given testimony in the days of 
her brother and predecessor, Edward the Sixth 3 
and this John Jewel having within a short time after, 
a just cause to fear a more heavy punishment than 
expulsion, was forced, by forsaking this, to seek 
safety in another nation 5 and, with that safety, the 
enjoyment of that doctrine and worship for which 
he suffered. 

But the cloud of that persecution and fear ending 
with the life of Queen Mary, the affairs of the 
Church and State did then look more clear and 
comfortable j so that he, and with him many others 
of the same judgment, made a happy return into 
England about the first of Queen Elizabeth; in 
which year this John Jewel was sent a Commissioner 
or Visitor, of the Churches of the Western parts of 
this kingdom, and especially of those in Devonshire, 
in which County he was born 3 and then and there 
he contracted a friendship with John Hooker, the 
Uncle of our Richard. 

Aa 



170 



THE LIFE OF 



About the second or third year of her reign> this 
John Jewel was made Bishop of Salisbury ; 




and there being always observed in him a willing- 
ness to do good,, and to oblige his friends, and now 
a power added to this willingness 5 this John Hooker 
gave him a visit in Salisbury, and besought him for 
charity s sake to look favourably upon a poor Nephew 
of his, whom Nature had fitted for a scholar ; but the 
estate of his parents was so narrow, that they were 
unable to give him the advantage of learning ; and that 
the Bishop would therefore become his patron, and pre- 
vent him from being a tradesman, for he was a boy of 
remarkable hopes. And though the Bishop knew 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 171 

men do not usually look with an indifferent eye upon 
their own children and relations, yet he assented 
so far to John Hooker, that he appointed the boy 
and his School-master should attend him, about 
Easter next following, at that place : which was 
done accordingly -, and then, after some questions 
and observations of the boy's learning, and gravity, 
and behaviour, the Bishop gave his Schoolmaster a 
reward, and took order for an annual pension for 
the boy's parents ; promising also to take him into 
his care for a future preferment, which he per- 
formed : for about the fifteenth year of his age, 
which was Anno 1567, he was by the Bishop ap- 
pointed to remove to Oxford, and there to attend 
Dr. Cole, then President of Corpus Christi College. 
Which he did 5 and Dr. Cole had — according to a 
promise made to the Bishop — provided for him both 
a Tutor — which was said to be the learned Dr. 
John Reynolds — and a Clerk's place in that College : 
which place, though it were not a full maintenance, 
yet, with the contribution of his Uncle, and the con- 
tinued pension of his patron, the good Bishop, gave 
him a comfortable subsistence. And in this con- 
dition he continued unto the eighteenth year of his 
age, still increasing in learning and prudence, and so 
much in humility and piety, that he seemed to be 
filled with the Holy Ghost ; and even like St. John 
Baptist, to be sanctified from his mother's womb, 
who did often bless the day in which she bare him. 
About this time of his age, he fell into a danger- 



172 THE LIFE OF 

ous sickness, which lasted two months ; all which 
time his Mother, having notice of it, did in her 
hourly prayers as earnestly beg his life of God, as 
Monica, the mother of St. Augustine did, that he 
might become a true Christian ; and their prayers 
were both so heard as to be granted. Which Mr. 
Hooker would often mention with much joy, and as 
often pray that he might never live to occasion any 
sorrow to so good a mother ; of whom he would often 
say, he loved her so dearly, that he would endeavour to 
be good, even as much for hers, as for his own sake. 

As soon as he was perfectly recovered from this 
sickness, he took a journey from Oxford to Exeter, 
to satisfy and see his good Mother, being accompa- 
nied with a countryman and companion of his own 
College, and both on foot ; which was then either 
more in fashion, or want of money, or their humi- 
lity made it so : but on foot they went, and took 
Salisbury in their way, purposely to see the good 
Bishop, who made Mr. Hooker and his companion 
dine with him at his OAvn table : which Mr. Hooker 
boasted of with much joy and gratitude when he 
saw his mother and friends : and at the Bishop's 
parting with him, the Bishop gave him good coun- 
sel, and his benediction, but forgot to give him 
money; which, when the Bishop had considered, 
he sent a servant in all haste to call Richard back 
to him : and at Richard's return, the Bishop said to 
him, Richard, I sent for you back to lend you a horse, 
which hath carried me many a mile, and, I thank God 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 173 

with much ease: and presently delivered into his 
hand a walking-staff, with which he professed he 
had travelled through many parts of Germany. And 
he said, Richard, I do not give, but lend you my 
horse: be sure you be honest, and bring my horse 
back to me at your return this way to Oxford. And 
I do now give you ten groats, to bear your charges to 
Exeter \ and here is ten groats more, which I charge 
you to deliver to your Mother, and tell her I send her 
a Bishop's benediction with it, and beg the continuance 
of her prayers for me. And if you bring my horse back to 
me, I will give you ten groats more, to carry you on foot 
to the College : and so God bless you, good Richard. 

And this, you may believe, was performed by both 
parties. But, alas ! the next news that followed 
Mr. Hooker to Oxford was, that his learned and cha- 
ritable patron had changed this for a better life. 
Which happy change may be believed, for that as 
he lived, so he died, in devout meditation and prayer ; 
and in both so zealously, that it became a religious 
question, Whether his last ejaculations or his soul, did 
first enter into Heaven ? 

And now Mr. Hooker became a man of sorrow 
and fear : of sorrow, for the loss of so dear and com- 
fortable a patron ; and of fear, for his future sub- 
sistence. But Dr. Cole raised his spirits from this 
dejection, by bidding him go cheerfully to his 
studies, and assuring him, he should neither want 
food nor raiment, — which was the utmost of his 
hopes, — for he would become his patron. 

And so he was for about nine months, and not 



174 THE LIFE OF 

longer ; for about that time this following accident 
did befall Mr. Hooker. 

Edwin Sandys — sometime Bishop of London, and 
after Archbishop of York — had also been in the days 
of Queen Mary, forced, by forsaking this, to seek 
safety in another nation ; where, for some years, 
Bishop Jewel and he were companions at bed and 
board in Germany ; and where, in this their exile, 
they did often eat the bread of sorrow, and by that 
means they there began such a friendship, as lasted 
till the death of Bishop Jewel, which was in Sept- 
ember, 1571. A little before which time the two 
Bishops meeting, Jewel had an occasion to begin a 
story of his Richard Hooker, and in it gave such a 
character of his learning and manners, that though 
Bishop Sandys was educated in Cambridge, where 
he had obliged, and had many friends 5 yet his reso- 
lution was, that his son Edwin should be sent to 
Corpus Christi College in Oxford, and by all means be 
pupil to Mr. Hooker, though his son Edwin was not 
much younger than Mr. Hooker then was : for the 
Bishop said, I will have a Tutor for my son, that shall 
teach him learning by instruction, and virtue by ex- 
ample : and my greatest care shall be of the last ,• and, 
God willing, this Richard Hooker shall be the man 
into whose hands I will commit my Edwin. And the 
Bishop did so about twelve months, or not much 
longer, after this resolution. 

And doubtless, as to these two, a better choice 
could not be made -, for Mr. Hooker was now in the 
nineteenth year of his age; had spent five in the 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 175 

University 5 and had,, by a constant unwearied dili- 
gence, attained unto a perfection in all the learned 
languages j by the help of which, an excellent Tutor, 
and his unintermitted studies, he had made the sub- 
tilty of all the arts easy and familiar to him, and 
useful for the discovery of such learning as lay hid 
from common searchers. So that by these, added 
to his great reason, and his restless industry added 
to both, he did not only know more of causes and ef- 
fects ; but what he knew, he knew better than other 
men. And with this knowledge he had a most 
blessed and clear method of demonstrating what he 
knew, to the great advantage of all his Pupils, — 
which in time were many, — but especially to his 
two first, his dear Edwin Sandys, and his as dear 
George Cranmer ; of which there will be a fair tes- 
timony in the ensuing relation. 

This for Mr. Hookers learning. And for his be- 
haviour, amongst other testimonies, this still remains 
of him, that in four years he was but twice absent 
from the Chapel prayers ; and that his behaviour 
there was such, as shewed an awful reverence of 
that God which he then worshipped and prayed to 5 
giving all outward testimonies that his affections 
were set on heavenly things. This was his behaviour 
towards God 3 and for that to man, it is observable, 
that he was never known to be angry, or passionate, 
or extreme in any of his desires 3 never heard to 
repine or dispute with Providence, but, by a quiet 
gentle submission and resignation of his will to the 



176 THE LIFE OF 

wisdom of his Creator, bore the burthen of the day 
with patience j never heard to utter an uncomely 
word : and by this, and a grave behaviour, which 
is a divine charm, he begot an early reverence unto 
his person, even from those that at other times and 
in other companies, took a liberty to cast off that 
strictness of behaviour and discourse that is required 
in a Collegiate life. And when he took any liberty 
to be pleasant, his wit was never blemished with 
scoffing, or the utterance of any conceit that bor- 
dered upon, or might beget a thought of looseness 
in his hearers. Thus mild, thus innocent and ex- 
emplary was his behaviour in his College 3 and thus 
this good man continued till his death, still increas- 
ing in learning, in patience, and piety. 

In this nineteenth year of his age, he was, Decem- 
ber 24, 1573, admitted to be one of the twenty Scho- 
lars of the Foundation; being elected and so ad- 
mitted as born in Devon or Hantshire ; out of which 
Counties a certain number are to be elected in 
vacancies by the Founder's Statutes. And now as 
he was much encouraged, so now he was perfectly 
incorporated into this beloved College, which was 
then noted for an eminent Library, strict Students, 
and remarkable Scholars. And indeed it may glory, 
that it had Cardinal Poole, but more that it had 
Bishop Jewel, Dr. John Reynolds, and Dr. Thomas 
Jackson, of that foundation. The first famous for 
his learned Apology far the Church of England, and 
his Defence of it against Harding. The second, for 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 177 

the learned and wise manage of a public dispute 
with John Hart, of the Romish persuasion, about the 
Head and Faith of the Church, and after printed by 
consent of both parties. And the third, for his 
most excellent Exposition of the Creed, and other 
treatises 3 all such as have given greatest satisfac- 
tion to men of the greatest learning. Nor was Dr. 
Jackson more note-worthy for his learning, than for 
his strict and pious life, testified by his abundant 
love, and meekness, and charity to all men. 

And in the year 1576, February 23, Mr. Hookers 
Grace was given him for Inceptor of Arts ; Dr. Her- 
bert Westphaling, a man of note for learning, being 
then Vice-Chancellor : and the Act following he was 
completed Master, which was Anno 1577, bis patron 
Dr. Cole, being Vice-Chancellor that year, and his 
dear friend, Henry Savile of Merton College, being 
then one of the Proctors. 'Twas that Henry Savile, 




that was after Sir Henry Savile, Warden of Merton 

College, and Provost of Eton ; he which founded in 

Bb 



178 THE LIFE OF 

Oxford two famous Lectures 5 and endowed them 
with liberal maintenance. 

It was that Sir Henry Savile that translated and 
enlightened the History of Cornelius Tacitus, with a 
most excellent Comment 5 and enriched the world 
by his laborious and chargeable collecting the scat- 
tered pieces of St. Chrysostom, and the publication 
of them in one entire body in Greek ; in which lan- 
guage he was a most judicious critic. It was this 
Sir Henry Saville that had the happiness to be a 
contemporary and familiar friend to Mr. Hooker; 
and let posterity know it. 

And in this year of 1577, he was so happy as to 
be admitted Fellow of the College 5 happy also in 
being the contemporary and friend of that Dr. John 
Reynolds, of whom I have lately spoken, and of Dr. 
Spencer; both which were after, and successively 
made Presidents of Corpus Christi College : men of 
great learning and merit, and famous in their gene- 
rations. 

Nor was Mr. Hooker more happy in his contem- 
poraries of his time and College, than in the pupil- 
age and friendship of his Edwin Sandys and George 
Cranmer ; of whom my Reader may note, that this 
Edwin Sandys was after Sir Edwin Sandys, and as 
famous for his Speculum Europce, as his brother 
George for making posterity beholden to his pen by 
a learned relation and comment on his dangerous 
and remarkable Travels; and for his harmonious 
translation of the Psalms of David, the Book of Job, 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 179 

and other poetical parts of Holy Writ, into most 
high and elegant verse. And for Cranmer, his other 
pupil, I shall refer my Reader to the printed testi- 
monies of our learned Mr. Camden, of Fynes Moryson 
and others. 

" This Cranmer," — says Mr. Camden in his Annals 
of Queen Elizabeth, — " whose Christian name was 
" George, was a gentleman of singular hopes, the 
" eldest son of Thomas Cranmer, son of Edmund 
" Cranmer, the Archbishop's brother : he spent 
" much of his youth in Corpus Christi College in 
" Oxford, where he continued Master of Arts for 
" some time before he removed, and then betook 
" himself to travel, accompanying that worthy gen- 
" tleman Sir Edwin Sandys into France, Germany, 
" and Italy, for the space of three years ; and after 
" their happy return, he betook himself to an em- 
" ployment under Secretary Davison, a Privy Coun- 
" cillor of note, who, for an unhappy undertaking, 
" became clouded and pitied : after whose fall, he 
" went in place of Secretary with Sir Henry Kille- 
" grew in his Embassage into France : and after his 
te death he was sought after by the most noble Lord 
u Mountjoy, with whom he went into Ireland, where 
" he remained, until in a battle against the rebels 
" near Carlingford, an unfortunate wound put an 
" end both to his life, and the great hopes that 
" were conceived of him, he being then but in the 
" thirty-sixth year of his age." 



180 THE LIFE OF 

Betwixt Mr. Hooker and these his two Pupils, 
there was a sacred friendship ; a friendship made 
up of religious principles, which increased daily by 
a similitude of inclinations to the same recreations 
and studies j a friendship elemented in youth, and 
in an University, free from self-ends, which the 
friendships of age usually are not. And in this 
sweet, this blessed, this spiritual amity, they went 
on for many years : and as the holy Prophet saith, 
so they took sweet counsel together, and walked in the 
house of God as friends. By which means they im- 
proved this friendship to such a degree of holy 
amity, as bordered upon heaven 5 a friendship so 
sacred, that when it ended in this world, it began 
in that next, where it shall have no end. 

And, though this world cannot give any degree 
of pleasure equal to such a friendship 5 yet obedience 
to parents, and a desire to know the affairs, man- 
ners, laws, and learning of other nations, that they 
might thereby become the more serviceable unto 
their own, made them put off their gowns, and 
leave the College and Mr. Hooker to his studies, in 
which he was daily more assiduous, still enriching 
his quiet and capacious soul with the precious learn- 
ing of the Philosophers, Casuists, and Schoolmen ; 
and with them the foundation and reason of all 
Laws, both Sacred and Civil ; and indeed with 
such other learning as lay most remote from the 
track of common studies. And, as he was diligent 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 181 

in these,, so he seemed restless in searching the 
scope and intention of God's Spirit revealed to 
mankind in the Sacred Scripture : for the under- 
standing of which, he seemed to be assisted by the 
same Spirit with which they were written ; He that 
regardeth truth in the inward parts, making him to 
understand wisdom secretly. And the good man 
would often say, that God abhors confusion as contrary 
to his nature ,• and as often say, That the Scripture 
was not writ to beget disputations and pride, and oppo- 
sition to government ,• but charity and humility, modera- 
tion, obedience to authority, and peace to mankind ; of 
w T hich virtues, he would as often say, no man did ever 
repent himself on his death-bed. And that this was 
really his judgment, did appear in his future writ- 
ings, and in all the actions of his life. Nor was 
this excellent man a stranger to the more light and 
airy parts of learning, as Music and Poetry; all 
which he had digested and made useful ; and of all 
which the Reader will have a fair testimony in what 
will follow. 

In the year 1579, the Chancellor of the Univer- 
sity was given to understand, that the public Hebrew 
Lecture was not read according to the Statutes ; 
nor could be, by reason of a distemper, that had 
then seized the brain of Mr. Kingsmill, who was to 
read it ; so that it lay long unread, to the great de- 
triment of those that were studious of that lan- 
guage. Therefore the Chancellor writ to his Vice- 



182 THE LIFE OF 

Chancellor, and the University, that he had heard 
such commendations of the excellent knowledge of 
Mr. Richard Hooker in that tongue, that he desired 
he might be procured to read it : and he did, and 
continued to do so till he left Oxford. 

Within three months after his undertaking this 
Lecture, — namely in October 1579, — he was, with 
Dr. Reynolds and others expelled his College ; and 
this Letter, transcribed from Dr. Reynolds his own 
hand., may give some account of it. 

To Sir Francis Knolles. 

I am sorry, Right Honourable, that I am enforced to 
make unto you such a suit, which I cannot move, but I 
must complain of the unrighteous dealing of one of our 
College ; who hath taken upon him, against all law and 
reason, to expel out of our house both me and Mr. 
Hooker, and three other of our fellows, for doing that 
which by oath we were bound to do. Our matter must 
be heard before the Bishop of Winchester, with whom 
I do not doubt but we shall find equity. Howbeit, foras- 
much as some of our adversaries have said that the 
Bishop is already forestalled, and will not give us such 
audience as we look for ; therefore I am humbly to be- 
seech your Honour, that you will desire the Bishop, by 
your letters, to let us have justice ; though it be with 
rigour, so it be justice ; our cause is so good, that I am 
sure we shall prevail by it. Thus much I am bold to 
request of your honour for Corpus Christi College 
sake, or rather for Christ's sake ; whom I beseech to 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 183 

bless you with daily increase of his manifold gifts, and 
the blessed graces of his Holy Spirit. 

Your Honours in Christ to command, 
London, October 9, 1579. John Reynolds. 

This expulsion was by Dr. John Barfoote, then 
Vice-president of the College, and Chaplain to Am- 
brose Earl of Warwick. I cannot learn the pretended 
cause ; but, that they were restored the same month 
is most certain. 

I return to Mr. Hooker in his College, where he 
continued his studies with all quietness, for the 
space of three years ; about which time he entered 
into Sacred Orders, being then made Deacon and 
Priest, and, not long after, was appointed to preach 
at St. Paul's Cross. 

In order to which Sermon, to London he came, 
and immediately to the Shunamite's House; which 
is a House so called, for that, besides the stipend 
paid the Preacher, there is provision made also for 
his lodging and diet for two days before, and one 
day after his Sermon. This house was then kept 
by John Churchman, sometime a Draper of good note 
in Watling-street, upon whom poverty had at last 
come like an armed man, and brought him into a 
necessitous condition ; which, though it be a punish- 
ment, is not always an argument of God's disfavour 5 
for he was a virtuous man. I shall not yet give the 
like testimony of his wife, but leave the Reader to 



184 THE LIFE OF 

judge by what follows. But to this house Mr. 
Hooker came so wet, so weary, and weather-beaten, 
that he was never known to express more passion, 
than against a friend that dissuaded him from foot- 
ing it to London, and for finding him no easier an 
horse, — supposing the horse trotted when he did 
not 5 — and at this time also, such a faintness and 
fear possessed him, that he would not be persuaded 
two days rest and quietness, or any other means 
could be used to make him able to preach his Sun- 
day's Sermon : but a warm bed, and rest, and drink 
proper for a cold, given him by Mrs. Churchman, 
and her diligent attendance added unto it, enabled 
him to perform the office of the day, which was in, 
or about the year 1581. 

And in this first public appearance to the world, 
he was not so happy as to be free from exceptions 
against a point of doctrine delivered in his Sermon , 
which was, That in God there were two wills -, an an- 
tecedent and a consequent will : his first will. That all 
mankind should be saved ; but his second will was, That 
those only should be saved, that did live answerable to 
that degree of grace which he had offered or afforded 
them. This seemed to cross a late opinion of Mr. 
Calvin s, and then taken for granted by many that 
had not a capacity to examine it, as it had been by 
him before, and hath been since by Master Henry 
Mason, Dr. Jackson, Dr. Hammond, and others of 
great learning, who believe that a contrary opinion 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 185 

intrenches upon the honour and justice of our mer- 
ciful God. How he justified this, I will not under- 
take to declare ; but it was not excepted against — 
as Mr. Hooker declares in his rational Answer to 
Mr. Travers — by John Elmer, then Bishop of London, 
at this time one of his auditors, and at last one 
of his advocates too, when Mr. Hooker was accused 
for it. 

But the justifying of this doctrine did not prove 
of so bad consequence, as the kindness of Mrs. 
Churchman s curing him of his late distemper and 
coldj for that was so gratefully apprehended by 
Mr. Hooker, that he thought himself bound in con- 
science to believe all that she said : so that the 
good man came to be persuaded by her, that he was 
a man of a tender constitution ; and that it was best 
for him to have a wife, that might prove a nurse to 
him ; such an one as might both prolong his life, and 
make it more comfortable ; and such a one she could 
and would provide for him, if he thought fit to marry. 
And he, not considering that the children of this 
world are wiser in their generation than the children of 
light ; but, like a true Nathaniel, fearing no guile, 
because he meant none, did give her such a power 
as Eleazar was trusted with, — -you may read it in 
the book of Genesis, — when he was sent to choose 
a wife for Isaac: for even so he trusted her to 
choose for him, promising upon a fair summons to 
return to London, r and accept of her choice 5 and he 
c c 



186 THE LIFE OF 

did so in that, or about the year following. Now* 
the wife provided for him was her daughter Joan, 
who brought him neither beauty nor portion ; and 
for her conditions, they were too like that wife's, 
which is by Solomon compared to a dripping house : 
so that the good man had no reason to rejoice in the 
wife of his youth; but too just cause to say with the 
holy Prophet, Wo is me, that I am constrained to have 
my habitation in the tents of Kedar ! 

This choice of Mr. Hooker s — if it were his choice 
— may be wondered at : but let us consider that 
the Prophet Ezekiel says, There is a wheel within 
a wheel; a secret sacred wheel of Providence, — 
most visible in marriages,— guided by His hand, 
that allows not the race to the swift, nor bread to 
the wise, nor good wives to good men : and He 
that can bring good out of evil — for mortals are 
blind to this reason — only knows why this bles- 
sing was denied to patient Job, to meek Moses, and 
to our as meek and patient Mr. Hooker. But so it 
was ; and let the Reader cease to wonder, for afflic- 
tion is a divine diet ; which though it be not pleasing 
to mankind, yet Almighty God hath often, very often, 
imposed it as good, though bitter physic to those 
children, whose souls are dearest to him. 

And by this marriage the good man was drawn 
from the tranquillity of his College -, from that 
garden of piety, of pleasure, of peace, and a sweet 
conversation, into the thorny wilderness of a busy 



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MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 187 

world ; into those corroding cares that attend a 
married Priest, and a country Parsonage; which 
was Drayton-Beauchamp in Buckinghamshire, 





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not far from Aylesbury, and in the Diocese of Lin- 
coln ; to which he was presented by John Cheney, 
Esq. — then Patron of it — the 9th of December, 1584, 
where he behaved himself so as to give no occasion 
of evil, but as St. Paul adviseth a minister of God 
— in much patience, in afflictions, in anguishes, in ne- 
cessities, in poverty, and no doubt in long-suffering ; yet 
troubling no man with his discontents and wants. 

And in this condition he continued about a year ; 
in which time his two Pupils, Edwin Sandys and 
George Cranmer, took a journey to see their Tutor ; 
where they found him with a book in his hand, — it 
was the Odes of Horace, — he being then like humble 
and innocent Abel, tending his small allotment of 
sheep in a common field ; which he told his Pupils 



183 THE LIFE OF 

he was forced to do then, for that his servant was 
gone home to dine, and assist his wife to do some 
necessary household business. But when his ser- 
vant returned and released him, then his two Pupils 
attended him unto his house, where their best en- 
tertainment was his quiet company, which was pre- 
sently denied them j for Richard was called to rock 
the cradle ; and the rest of their welcome was so 
like this, that they staid but till next morning, which 
was time enough to discover and pity their Tutor's 
condition ; and they having in that time rejoiced in 
the remembrance, and then paraphrased on many 
of the innocent recreations of their younger days, 
and other like diversions, and thereby given him as 
much present comfort as they were able, they were 
forced to leave him to the company of his wife 
Joan, and seek themselves a quieter lodging for next 
night. But at their parting from him, Mr. Cran- 
mer said, Good Tutor, I am sorry your lot is fallen in 
no better ground, as to your parsonage ; and more sorry 
that your wife proves not a more comfortable companion, 
after you have wearied yourself in your restless studies. 
To whom the good man replied, My dear George, 
if Saints have usually a double share in the miseries of 
this life, I, that am none, ought not to repine at what 
my wise Creator hath appointed for me ; but labour — 
as indeed I do daily — to submit mine to his will, and 
possess my soul in patience and peace. 

At their return to London, Edwin Sandys acquaints 
his Father, who was then Archbishop of York, with 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 189 

his Tutor's sad condition, and solicits for his re- 
moval to some benefice that might give him a more 
quiet and a more comfortable subsistence; which 
his father did most willingly grant him when it 
should next fall into his power. And not long after 
this time, which was in the year 1585, Mr. Alvey, — 
Master of the Temple, — died, who was a man of 
a strict life, of great learning, and of so venerable 
behaviour, as to gain so high a degree of love and 
reverence from all men, that he was generally 
known by the name of Father Alvey. And at the 
Temple-reading, next after the death of this Father 
Alvey, he, the said Archbishop of York being then at 
dinner with the Judges, the Reader, and the Benchers 
of that Society, met with a general condolement 
for the death of Father Alvey, and with a high com- 
mendation of his Saint-like life, and of his great 
merit both towards God and man 5 and as they be- 
wailed his death, so they wished for a like pattern 
of virtue and learning to succeed him. And here 
came in a fair occasion for the Bishop to commend 
Mr. Hooker to Father Alvey s place, which he did 
with so effectual an earnestness, and that seconded 
with so many other testimonies of his worth, that 
Mr. Hooker was sent for from Dray Ion- Beauchamp 
to London, and there the Mastership of the Temple 
proposed unto him by the Bishop, as a greater free- 
dom from his country cares, the advantages of 
a better society, and a more liberal pension than 
his country Parsonage did afford him. But these 



190 THE LIFE OF 

reasons were not powerful enough to incline him to 
a willing acceptance of it : his wish was rather to 
gain a better country living, where he might see God's 
blessings spring out of the earth, and be free from noise, 
— so he expressed the desire of his heart, — and eat 
that bread which he might more properly call his own, 
in privacy and quietness. But, notwithstanding this 
averseness, he was at last persuaded to accept of 

* m. n , . tne Bishop's proposal: 

* 1 his you may find in the 

Temple Records. William Erm- and was by* Patent for 
stead was Master of the Temple Hf made Magter of the 
at the Dissolution of the Priory , 

and died 2 Eliz. (1559) . Temple the 17th of March, 

Pa^Febr.TEnz? MagZfr, 1585 ' he bein S then in 

sive Custos DomAs et Ecclesics the 34th year of his age. 
NoviTempli,died27 Eliz. (1585). . , , T , „ ° 

Richard Hooker succeeded that And nere * shall make 

year by Patent, in terminis, as a s t p ; and, that the 
Alvey had it, and he left it 33 

Eliz. (1591). Reader may the better 

That year Dr. Bslgey succeed- j ud of what f H ows 

ed Richard Hooker- J & ' 

give him a character of 

the times, and temper of the people of this nation, 
when Mr. Hooker had his admission into this place ; 
a place which he accepted, rather than desired : and 
et here he promised himself a virtuous quietness, 
that blessed tranquillity which he always prayed 
and laboured for, that so he might in peace bring 
forth the fruits of peace, and glorify God by unin- 
terrupted prayers and praises. For this he always 
thirsted and prayed : but Almighty God did not 
grant it 5 for his admission into this place was the 
very beginning of those oppositions and anxieties. 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 191 

which till then this good man was a stranger to j 
and of which the Reader may guess by what follows. 

In this character of the times, I shall, by the 
Reader's favour, and for his information, look so 
far back as to the beginning of the reign of Queen 
Elizabeth ,• a time, in which the many pretended titles 
to the Crown, the frequent treasons, the doubts of her 
successor, the late Civil War, and the sharp persecu- 
tion for Religion that raged to the effusion of so much 
blood in the reign of Queen Mary, were fresh in the 
memory of all men j and begot fears in the most 
pious and wisest of this nation, lest the like days 
should return again to them, or their present pos- 
terity. And the apprehension of these dangers, 
begot a hearty desire of a settlement in the Church 
and State ; believing there was no other probable 
way left to make them sit quietly under their own 
vines and fig-trees, and enjoy the desired fruit of 
their labours. But time, and peace, and plenty, be- 
got self-ends ; and these begot animosities, envy, op- 
position, and unthankfulness for those very blessings 
for which they lately thirsted, being then the very 
utmost of their desires, and even beyond their 
hopes. 

This was the temper of the times in the begin- 
ning of her reign ; and thus it continued too long j 
for those very people that had enjoyed the desires 
of their hearts in a reformation from the Church of 
Rome, became at last so like the grave, as never to 
be satisfied, but were still thirsting for more and 



192 THE LIFE OF 

more ; neglecting to pay that obedience, and per- 
form those vows, which they made in their days of 
adversities and fear: so that in short time there 
appeared three several interests, each of them fear- 
less and restless in the prosecution of their designs : 
they may for distinction be called, the active Ro- 
manists, the restless Non-conformists, — of which 
there were many sorts, — and the passive peaceable 
Protestant. The counsels of the first considered and 
resolved on in Rome : the second both in Scotland, 
in Geneva, and in divers selected, secret, dangerous 
Conventicles, both there, and within the bosom of 
our own nation : the third pleaded and defended 
their cause by established Laws, both Ecclesiastical 
and Civil : and if they were active, it was to pre- 
vent the other two from destroying what was by 
those known Laws happily established to them and 
their posterity. 

I shall forbear to mention the very many and 
dangerous plots of the Romanists against the Church 
and State ; because what is principally intended in 
this digression, is an account of the opinions and 
activity of the Non-conformists ; against whose 
judgment and practice Mr. Hooker became at last, 
but most unwillingly, to be engaged in a book -war $ 
a war which he maintained not as against an enemy, 
but with the spirit of meekness and reason. 

In which number of Non-conformists, though 
some might be sincere, well-meaning men, whose 
indiscreet zeal might be so like charity, as thereby 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 193 

to cover a multitude of their errors -, yet of this 
party there were many that were possessed with a 
high degree of spiritual wickedness ,■ I mean with an 
innate restless pride and malice ; I do not mean the 
visible carnal sins of gluttony and drunkenness, and 
the like, — from which, good Lord, deliver us ! — 
but sins of a higher nature, because they are more 
unlike God, who is the God of love, and mercy, and 
order, and peace ; and more like the Devil, who is 
not a glutton, nor can be drunk, and yet is a Devil : 
but I mean those spritual wickednesses of malice 
and revenge, and an opposition to government : men 
that joyed to be the authors of misery, which is 
properly his work that is the enemy and disturber of 
mankind ; and thereby greater sinners than the glut- 
ton or drunkard, though some will not believe it. 
And of this party there were also many, whom pre- 
judice and a furious zeal had so blinded, as to make 
them neither to hear reason, nor adhere to the 
ways of peace : men, that were the very dregs and 
pest of mankind ; men whom pride and self-conceit 
had made to over-value their own pitiful crooked 
wisdom so much, as not to be ashamed to hold 
foolish and unmannerly disputes against those men 
whom they ought to reverence, and those laws 
which they ought to obey ; men, that laboured and 
joyed first to find out the faults, and then speak 
evil of Government, and to be the authors of con- 
fusion 5 men, whom company, and conversation, 
and custom had at last so blinded, and made so 
d d 



194 THE LIFE OF 

insensible that these were sins, that like those that 
perished in the gainsaying of Korah, so these died 
without repenting of these spiritual wickednesses; 
of which the practices of Coppinger and Hacket in 
their lives, and the death of them and their ad- 
herents, are, God knows, too sad examples, and 
ought to be cautions to those men that are inclined 
to the like spiritual wickednesses. 

And in these times, which tended thus to con- 
fusion, there were also many of these scruple- 
mongers, that pretended a tenderness of conscience, 
refusing to take an oath before a lawful Magistrate : 
and yet these very men in their secret Conventicles 
did covenant and swear to each other, to be assidu- 
ous and faithful in using their best' endeavours to 
set up the Presbyterian doctrine and discipline ,• and 
both in such a manner as they themselves had not 
yet agreed on ; but up that government must. To 
which end there were many that wandered up and 
down, and were active in sowing discontents and 
sedition, by venomous and secret murmurings, and 
a dispersion of scurrilous pamphlets and libels 
against the Church and State ; but especially against 
the Bishops ; by which means, together with ve- 
nomous and indiscreet sermons, the common people 
became so fanatic, as to believe the Bishops to be 
Antichrist, and the only obstructers of God's disci- 
pline ! and at last some of them were given over to 
so bloody a zeal, and such other desperate delu- 
sions, as to find out a text in the Revelation of St. 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 195 

John, that Antichrist was to be overcome by the sword. 
So that those very men, that began with tender and 
meek petitions, proceeded to admonitions ; then to 
satirical remonstrances : and at last — having, like 
Absalom, numbered who was not, and who was, for 
their cause — they got a supposed certainty of so 
great a party, that they durst threaten first the 
Bishops, and then the Queen and Parliament, to all 
which they were secretly encouraged by the Earl 
of Leicester, then in great favour with her Majesty, 
and the reputed cherisher and patron- general of 
these pretenders to tenderness of conscience ; his 
design being, by their means, to bring such an 
odium upon the Bishops, as to procure an alienation 
of their lands, and a large proportion of them for 
himself: which avaricious desire had at last so 
blinded his reason, that his ambitious and greedy 
hopes seemed to put him into a present possession 
of Lambeth-House. 

And to these undertakings the Non-conformists 
of this nation, were much encouraged and heighten- 
ed by a correspondence and confederacy with that 
brotherhood in Scotland ,• so that here they became 

so bold, that one * told the Queen 

i • p , 7 . 7 * Mr. Bering. 

openly in a sermon, She was like an 

untamed heifer, that would not be ruled by God 1 s people, 

but obstructed his discipline. And in Scotland they 

were more confident : for there f . 17 . , „. , 

' ' t Vide Bishop Spots- 

they declared her an Atheist, and wood's History of the 
grew to such an height, as not to Church of Scotland ' 
be accountable for any thing spoken against her, 



196 THE LIFE OF 

nor for treason against their own King, if it were but 
spoken in the pulpit ; shewing at last such a dis- 
obedience to him,, that his Mother being in England, 
and then in distress, and in prison, and in danger 
of death, the Church denied the King their prayers 
for her 5 and at another time, when he had ap- 
pointed a day of Feasting, the Church declared for 
a general Fast, in opposition to his authority. 

To this height they were grown in both nations, 
and by these means there was distilled into the 
minds of the common people such other venomous 
and. turbulent principles, as were inconsistent with 
the safety of the Church and State : and these 
opinions vented so daringly, that, beside the loss 
of life and limbs, the governors of the Church and 
State were forced to use such other severities as 
will not admit of an excuse, if it had not been to 
prevent the gangrene of confusion, and the peril- 
ous consequences of it ; which, without such pre- 
vention, would have been first confusion, and then 
ruin and misery to this numerous nation. 

These errors and animosities were so remarkable, 
that they begot wonder in an ingenious Italian, who 
being about this time come newly into this nation, 
and considering them, writ scoffingly to a friend in 
his own country, to this purpose -, That the common 
people of England id ere wiser than the wisest of his 
nation ; for here the very women and shop-keepers 
were able to judge of Predestination, and to determine 
what laws were Jit to be made concerning Church-govern- 
ment ; and then, what were ft to be obeyed or abolished. 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 197 

That they were more able — or at least thought so — to 
raise and determine perplexed Cases of Conscience, than 
the wisest of the most learned Colleges in Italy ! That 
men of the slightest learning, and the most ignorant of 
the common people, were mad for a new, or super, or 
re- reformation of Religion; and that in tiis they 
appeared like that man, who would never cease to 
whet and whet his knife, till there was no steel left 
to make it useful. And he concluded his letter 
with this observation, That those very men that were 
most busy in oppositions, and disputations, and contro- 
versies, and finding out the faults of their governors, 
had usually the least of humility and mortification, 
or of the power of godliness . 

And to heighten all these discontents and dangers, 
there was also sprung up a generation of godless 
men ; men that had so long given way to their own 
lusts and delusions, and so highly opposed the 
blessed motions of His Spirit, and the inward light 
of their own consciences, that they became the 
very slaves of vice, and had thereby sinned them- 
selves into a belief of that which they would, but 
could not believe, into a belief, which is repugnant 
even to human nature ; — for the Heathens believe 
that there are many Gods ; — but these had sinned 
themselves into a belief that there was no God ! 
and so, finding nothing in themselves but what was 
worse than nothing, began to wish what they were 
not able to hope for, namely, That they might be like 
the beasts that perish ! and in wicked company — 



198 THE LIFE OP 

which is the Atheist's sanctuary — were so bold as 
to say so : though the worst of mankind, when he 
is left alone at midnight, may wish, but is not then 
able to think it : even into a belief that there is no 
God. Into this wretched, this reprobate condition, 
many had then sinned themselves. 

And now, when the Church was pestered with 
them, and with all those other fore-named irregu- 
larities ; when her lands were in danger of aliena- 
tion, her power at least neglected, and her peace 
torn to pieces by several schisms, and such heresies 
as do usually attend that sin ; — for heresies do 
usually outlive their first authors ; — when the com- 
mon people seemed ambitious of doing those very 
things that were forbidden and attended with most 
dangers, that thereby they might be punished, and 
then applauded and pitied : when they called the 
spirit of opposition a tender conscience, and com- 
plained of persecution, because they wanted power 
to persecute others : when the giddy multitude 
raged, and became restless to find out misery for 
themselves and others ; and the rabble would herd 
themselves together, and endeavour to govern and 
act in spite of authority ; — in this extremity of fear, 
and danger of the Church and State, when, to sup- 
press, the growing evils of both, they needed a man 
of prudence and piety, and of an high and fearless 
fortitude, they were blest in all by John Whitgift, 
his being made Archbishop of Canterbury ; of whom 
Sir Henry Wotlon — that knew him well in his youth, 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 



199 



and had studied him in his age, — gives this true 
character ; That he was a man of reverend and sacred 
memory, and of the primitive temper ,• such a temper, as 
when the Church by lowliness of spirit did flourish in 
highest examples of virtue. And indeed this man 
proved so. 

And though I dare not imdertake to add to this 
excellent and true character of Sir Henry Wotton ; 
yet I shall neither do right to this discourse, nor to 
my Reader, if I forbear to give him a further and 
short account of the life and manners of this excel- 
lent man ; and it shall be short, for I long to end 
this digression, that I may lead my Reader back to 
Mr. Hooker where we left him at the Temple. 

John Whitgift was born in the County of Lincoln, 




of a family that was ancient ; and noted to be both 
prudent; and affable, and gentle by nature. He was 



200 THE LIFE OF 

educated in Cambridge ; much of his learning was ac- 
quired in Pembroke-Hall, — where Mr. Bradford the 
Martyr was his Tutor :— from thence he was re- 
moved to Peter-House ,• from thence to be Master of 
Pembroke- Hall ; and from thence to the Mastership 
of Trinity -College. About which time the Queen 
made him her Chaplain -, and not long after Prebend 
of Ely, and then Dean of Lincoln ; and having for 
many years past looked upon him with much re- 
verence and favour, gave him a fair testimony of 
both, by giving him the Bishopric of Worcester, and 
— which was not with her a usual favour — forgiving 
him his first fruits ; then by constituting him Vice- 
President of the Principality of Wales. And having 
experimented his wisdom, his justice, and modera- 
tion in the manage of her affairs in both these places, 
she, in the twenty-sixth of her reign, 1583, made 
him Archbishop of Canterbury, and, not long after, 
of her Privy Council ; and trusted him to manage 
all her Ecclesiastical affairs and preferments. In all 
which removes, he was like the Ark, which left a 
blessing upon the place where it rested 5 and in all 
his employments was like Jehoiada, that did good 
unto Israel. 

These were the steps of this Bishop's ascension 
to this place of dignity and cares : in which place 
— to speak Mr. Camden s very words in his Annals 
of Queen Elizabeth — he devoutly consecrated both his 
whole life to God, and his painful labours to the good 
of his Church. And yet in this place he met with 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 201 

many oppositions in the regulation of Church affairs, 
which were much disordered at his entrance, by 
reason of the age and remissness of Bishop Grinclal, 
his immediate predecessor, the activity of the Non- 
conformists, and their chief assistant the Earl of 
Leicester; and indeed by too many others of the 
like sacrilegious principles. With these he was to 
encounter ; and though he wanted neither courage, 
nor a good cause, yet he foresaw, that without a 
great measure of the Queen's favour, it was impos- 
sible to stand in the breach, that had been lately 
made into the lands and immunities of the Church, 
or indeed to maintain the remaining lands and 
rights of it. And therefore by justifiable sacred 
insinuations, such as St. Paul to Agrippa, — Agrippa, 
believest thou ? I know thou believest, he wrought 
himself into so great a degree of favour with her, 
as, by his pious use of it, hath got both of them a 
great degree of fame in this world, and of glory in 
that into which tliey are now both entered. 

His merits to the Queen, and her favours to him 
were such, that she called him her little black hus- 
band, and called his servants her servants : and she 
saw so visible and blessed a sincerity shine in all 
his cares and endeavours for the Church's and for 
her good, that she was supposed to trust him with 
the very secrets of her soul, and to make him her 
confessor 5 of which she gave many fair testimo- 
nies ; and of which one was, that she would never 
eat flesh in Lent, without obtaining a licence from her 
e e 



202 THE LIFE OF 

little black husband : and would often say, she pitied 
him because she trusted him, and had thereby eased her- 
self by laying the burthen of all her Clergy-cares upon 
his shoulders, which he managed with prudence and 
piety. 

I shall not keep myself within the promised rules 
of brevity in this account of his interest with her 
Majesty, and his care of the Church's rights, if in 
this digression I should enlarge to particulars ; and 
therefore my desire is, that one example may serve 
for a testimony of both. And, that the Reader may 
the better understand it, he may take notice, that 
not many years before his being made Archbishop, 
there passed an Act, or Acts of Parliament, intending 
the better preservation of the Church-lands, by re- 
calling a power which was vested in others to sell 
or lease them, by lodging and trusting the future 
care and protection of them only in the Crown : and 
amongst many that made a bad use of this power 
or trust of the Queen's, the Earl of Leicester was 
one j and the Bishop having, by his interest with 
her Majesty, put a stop to the Earl's sacrilegious 
designs, they two fell to an open opposition before 
her ; after which they both quitted the room, not 
friends in appearance. But the Bishop made a 
sudden and seasonable return to her Majesty, — for 
he found her alone — and spake to her with great 
humility and reverence, to this purpose. 

I beseech your Majesty to hear me with patience, 
and to believe that yours and the Church's safety are 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 203 

dearer to me than my life, but my conscience dearer than 
both : and therefore give me leave to do my duty, and 
tell you, that Princes are deputed nursing Fathers of 
the Church., and owe it a protection ; and therefore 
God forbid that you should be so much as passive in her 
ruin, when you may prevent it ; or that I should behold 
it without horror and detestation; or should forbear to 
tell your Majesty of the sin and danger of Sacrilege. 
And though you and myself were born in an age of 
frailties, when the primitive piety and care of the Church* s 
lands and immunities are much decayed ; yet, Madam, 
let me beg that you would first consider that there are 
such sins as Profaneness and Sacrilege ; and that, if 
there were not, they could not have names in Holy Writ, 
and particularly in the New Testament. And I beseech 
you to consider, that though our Saviour said, He judged 
no man 5 and, to testify it, would not judge nor divide 
the inheritance betwixt the two brethren, nor would 
judge the woman taken in adultery ,• yet in this point of 
the Church's rights he was so zealous, that he made 
himself both the accuser, and the judge, and the execu- 
tioner too, to punish these sins ; witnessed, in that he 
himself made the whip to drive the prof oners out of the 
Temple, overthrew the tables of the money-changers, 
and drove them out of it. And I beseech you to con- 
sider, that it was St. Paul that said to those Christians 
of his time that were offended with Idolatry, and yet 
committed Sacrilege ; Thou that abhorrest Idols, dost 
thou commit Sacrilege ? supposing, I think, Sacrilege 
the greater sin. This may occasion your Majesty to 



204 THE LIFE OF 

consider, that there is such a sin as Sacrilege 5 and to 
incline you to prevent the Curse that will follow it, I 
beseech you also to consider, that Constantine, the first 
Christian Emperor, and Helena his Mother ; that King 
Edgar, and Edward the Confessor 5 and indeed many 
others of your predecessors, and many private Christians, 
have also given to God, and to his Church, much land, 
and many immunities, which they might have given to 
those of their own families, and did not ; but gave them 
for ever as an absolute right and sacrifice to God : 
and with these immunities and lands they have entailed 
a curse upon the alienators of them : God prevent 
your Majesty and your successors from being liable to 
that Curse, which will cleave unto Church-lands as the 
leprosy to the Jews. 

And to make you, that are trusted with their preser- 
vation, the better to understand the danger of it, 1 
beseech you forget not, that, to prevent these Curses, the 
Church's land and power have been also endeavoured to 
be preserved, as far as human reason and the law of this 
nation have been able to preserve them, by an immediate 
and most sacred obligation on the consciences of the 
Princes of this realm. For they that consult Magna 
Charta shall find, that as all your predecessors were at 
their Coronation, so you also were sworn before all the 
Nobility and Bishops then present, and in the presence 
of God, and in his stead to him that anointed you, to 
maintain the Church-lands, and the rights belonging 
to it 5 and this you yourself have testified openly to 
God at the holy Altar, by laying your hands on the 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 205 

Bible then lying upon it. And not only Magna Charta, 
but many modern Statutes have denounced a Curse 
upon those that break Magna Charta ; a Curse like the 
leprosy, that was entailed on the Jews : for as that, so 
these Curses have, and will cleave to the very stones of 
those buildings that have been consecrated to God ; and 
the father s sin of Sacrilege hath, and will prove to be 
entailed on his son and family. And now, Madam, 
what account can be given for the breach of this Oath at 
the Last Great Day, either by your Majesty, or by me, 
if it be wilfully, or but negligently violated, I know not. 
And therefore, good Madam, let not the late Lord's 
exceptions against the failings of some few Clergymen 
prevail with you to punish posterity for the errors of this 
present age ; let particular men suffer for their particu- 
lar errors ; but let God and his Church have their in- 
heritance: and though I pretend not to prophecy, yet I 
beg posterity to take notice of what is already become 
visible in many families ; that Church-land added to 
an ancient and just inheritance, hath proved like a 
moth fretting a garment, and secretly consumed 
both : or like the Eagle that stole a coal from the 
altar, and thereby set her nest on fire, which con- 
sumed both her young eagles and herself that stole 
it. And though I shall forbear to speak reproachfully 
of your Father, yet I beg you to take notice, that a part 
of the Church's rights, added to the vast treasures left 
him by his Father, hath been conceived to bring an un- 
avoidable consumption upon both, notwithstanding all 
his diligence to preserve them. 



206 THE LIFE OF 

And consider, that after the violation of those laws, 
to which he had sworn in Magna Charta, God did so 
far deny him his restraining grace, that as King Saul, 
after he was forsaken of God, fell from one sin to 
another ,• so he, till at last he fell into greater sins than I 
am willing to mention. Madam, Religion is the foun- 
dation and cement of human societies ; and when they 
that serve at God's Altar shall be exposed to poverty, 
then Religion itself will be exposed to scorn, and become 
contemptible -, as you may already observe it to be in too 
many poor Vicarages in this nation. And therefore, as 
you are by a late Act or Acts of Parliament, entrusted 
with a great power to preserve or waste the Church's 
lands ; yet dispose of them, for Jesus' sake, as you 
have promised to men, and vowed to God, that is, 
as the donors intended : let neither falsehood nor 
flattery beguile you to do otherwise ; but put a stop to 
God's and the Levite's portion, I beseech you, and to the 
approaching ruins of His Church, as you expect comfort 
at the Last Great Day ,• for Kings must be judged. 
Pardon this affectionate plainness my most dear Sove- 
reign, and let me beg to be still continued in y our fav our ; 
and the Lord still continue you in His. 

The Queen's patient hearing this affectionate 
speech, and her future care to preserve the Church's 
rights, which till then had been neglected, may ap- 
pear a fair testimony, that he made her's and the 
Church's good the chiefest of his cares, and that 
she also thought so. And of this there were such 
daily testimonies given, as begot betwixt them so 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 207 

mutual a joy and confidence, that they seemed born 
to believe and do good to each other 5 she not 
doubting his piety to be more than all his opposers, 
which were many ; nor doubting his prudence to 
be equal to the chiefest of her Council, who were 
then as remarkable for active wisdom, as those 
dangerous times did require, or this nation did ever 
enjoy. And in this condition he continued twenty 
years ; in which time he saw some Rowings, but 
many more ebbings of her favour towards all men 
that had opposed him, especially the Earl of Lei- 
cester : so that God seemed still to keep him in her 
favour, that he might preserve the remaining Church- 
lands and immunities from Sacrilegious alienations. 
And this good man deserved all the honour and 
power with which she gratified and trusted him ; 
for he was a pious man, and naturally of noble and 
grateful principles : he eased her of all her Church- 
cares by his wise manage of them ; he gave her 
faithful and prudent counsels in all the extremities 
and dangers of her temporal affairs, which were 
very many 3 he lived to be the chief comfort of her 
life in her declining age, and to be then most fre- 
quently with her, and her assistant at her private 
devotions ; he lived to be the greatest comfort of 
her soul upon her death-bed, to be present at the 
expiration of her last breath, and to behold the 
closing of those eyes that had long looked upon 
him with reverence and affection. And let this also 
be added, that he was the Chief Mourner at her sad 



208 THE LIFE OF 

funeral ; nor let this be forgotten, that, within a 
few hours after her death he was the happy pro- 
claimed that King James— her peaceful successor — 
was heir to the Crown. 

Let me beg of my Reader to allow me to say a 
little, and but a little, more, of this good Bishop, 
and I shall then presently lead him back to Mr. 
Hooker ,• and because I would hasten, I will men- 
tion but one part of the Bishop's charity and hu- 
mility j but this of both. He built a large Alms- 
house near to his own Palace at Croydon in Surrey, 
and endowed it with maintenance for a Master and 
twenty-eight poor men and women j which he 
visited so often, that he knew their names and dis- 
positions ; and was so truly humble, that he called 
them Brothers and Sisters: and whensoever the 
Queen descended to that lowliness to dine with him 
at his Palace in Lambeth, — which was very often, 
— he would usually the next day shew the like low- 
liness to his poor Brothers and Sisters at Croydon, 
and dine with them at his Hospital ; at which time, 
you may believe there was joy at the table. And 
at this place he built also a fair Free-school, with 
a good accommodation and maintenance for the 
Master and Scholars. Which gave just occasion for 
Boyse Sisi, then Ambassador for the French King, 
and resident here, at the Bishop's death, to say, 
The Bishop had published many learned books ,■ but a 
Free-school to train up youth, and an Hospital to lodge 
and maintain aged and poor people, were the best 






MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 209 

evidences of Christian learning that a Bishop could 
leave to posterity. This good Bishop lived to see 
King James settled in peace, and then fell into an 
extreme sickness at his Palace in Lambeth ; of which 
when the King had notice, he went presently to 
visit him, and found him in his bed in a declining 
condition and very weak 3 and after some short 
discourse betwixt them, the King at his departure 
assured him, He had a great affection for him, and a 
very high value for his prudence and virtues, and would 
endeavour to beg his life of God for the good of his 
Church. To which the good Bishop replied, Pro 
Ecclesia Dei ! Pro Ecclesia Dei ! which were the 
last words he ever spake ; therein testifying, that 
as in his life, so at his death, his chiefest care was 
of God's Church. 

This John Whitgift was made Archbishop in the 
year 1583. In which busy place he continued 
twenty years and some months ; and in which time 
you may believe he had many trials of his courage 
and patience : but his motto was Vincit qui patitur ; 
and he made it good. 

Many of his trials were occasioned by the then 
powerful Earl of Leicester, who did still — but se- 
cretly — raise and cherish a faction of Non-confor- 
mists to oppose him ; especially one Thomas Cart- 
wright, a man of noted learning, sometime contem- 
porary with the Bishop in Cambridge, and of the 
same College, of which the Bishop had been Master: 
in which place there began some emulations, — the 

Ff 



210 THE LIFE OF 

particulars I forbear, — and at last open and high 
oppositions betwixt them ; and in which you may 
believe Mr. Cartwright was most faulty, if his ex- 
pulsion out of the University can incline you to it. 

And in this discontent after the Earl's death, — 
which was 1588, — Mr. Cartwright appeared a chief 
cherisher of a party that were for the Geneva Church- 
government ; and, to effect it, he ran himself into 
many dangers both of liberty and life) appearing 
at the last to justify himself and his party in many 
remonstrances, which he caused to be printed : and 
to which the Bishop made a first answer, and 
Cartwright replied upon him 3 and then the Bishop 
having rejoined to his first reply, Mr. Cartwright 
either was, or was persuaded to be, satisfied ; for 
he wrote no more, but left the Reader to be judge 
w r hich had maintained their cause with most charity 
and reason. After some silence, Mr. Cartwright 
received from the Bishop many personal favours 
and betook himself to a more private living, which 
was at Warwick, where he was made Master of an 
Hospital, and lived quietly, and grew rich ; and 
where the Bishop gave him a licence to preach, 
upon promises not to meddle with controversies, but 
incline his hearers to piety and moderation : and 
this promise he kept during his life, which ended 
1602, the Bishop surviving him but some few 
months ; each ending his days in perfect charity 
with the other. 

And now after this long digression, made for the 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 211 

information of my Reader concerning what follows, 
I bring him back to venerable Mr. Hooker, where 
we left him in the Temple, and where we shall find 
him as deeply engaged in a controversy with Walter 
Travers, — a friend and favourite of Mr. Cartwright's 
— as the Bishop had ever been with Mr. Cartwright 
himself, and of which I shall proceed to give this 
following account. 

And first this 3 that though the pens of Mr. Cart- 
wright and the Bishop were now at rest, yet there 
was sprung up a new generation of restless men, 
that by company and clamours became possessed of 
a faith, which they ought to have kept to them- 
selves, but could not : men that were become posi- 
tive in asserting, That a Papist cannot be saved : 
insomuch, that about this time, at the execution of 
the Queen of Scots, the Bishop that preached her 
Funeral Sermon — which was Dr. Howland, then 
Bishop of Peterborough — was reviled for not being 
positive for her damnation. And besides this bold- 
ness of their becoming Gods, so far as to set limits 
to His mercies, there was not only one Martin Mar- 
Prelate, but other venomous books daily printed 
and dispersed ; books that were so absurd and 
scurrilous, that the graver Divines disdained them 
an answer. And yet these were grown into high 
esteem with the common people, till Tom Nash ap- 
peared against them all, who was a man of a sharp 
wit, and the master of a scoffing, satirical, merry 
pen, which he employed to discover the absurdities 



212 THE LIFE OF 

of those blind, malicious, senseless pamphlets, and 
sermons as senseless as they ; Nash's answers being 
like his books, which bore these, or like titles ; An 
Almond for a Parrot; A Fig for my Godson; Come 
crack me this Nut, and the like - } so that this merry- 
wit made some sport, and such a discovery of their 
absurdities, as — which is strange — he put a greater 
stop to these malicious pamphlets, than a much 
wiser man had been able. 

And now the Reader is to take notice, that at the 
death of Father Alvey, who was Master of the 
Temple, this Walter Travers was Lecturer there for 
the Evening Sermons, which he preached with great 
approbation, especially of some citizens, and the 
younger gentlemen of that Society ; and for the 
most part approved by Mr. Hooker himself, in the 
midst of their oppositions. For he continued Lec- 
turer a part of his time ; Mr. Travers being indeed 
a man of competent learning, of a winning beha- 
viourj and of a blameless life. But he had taken 
Orders by the Presbytery in Antwerp, — and with 
them some opinions, that could never be eradicated, 
— and if in any thing he was transported, it was in 
an extreme desire to set up that government in this 
nation ; for the promoting of which he had a cor- 
respondence with Theodore Beza at Geneva, and 
others in Scotland ,• and was one of the chiefest as- 
sistants to Mr. Cartwright in that design. 

Mr. Travers had also a particular hope to set. up 
this government in the Temple, and to that end used 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 213 

his most zealous endeavours to be Master of it ; 



and his being disappointed by Mr. Hooker s admit- 
tance,, proved the occasion of a public opposition 
betwixt them in their Sermons : many of which were 
concerning the doctrine and ceremonies of this 
Church : insomuch that, as St. Paul withstood St. 
Peter to his face, so did they withstand each other 
in their Sermons : for, as one hath pleasantly ex- 
pressed, it The forenoon Sermon spake Canterbury j 
and the afternoon Geneva. 

In these Sermons there was little of bitterness, 
but each party brought all the reasons he was able 
to prove his adversary's opinion erroneous. And 
thus it continued a long time, till the oppositions 
became so visible, and the consequences so dange- 
rous, especially in that place, that the prudent Arch- 
bishop put a stop to Mr. Travers his preaching, by 
a positive prohibition. Against which Mr. Travers 
appealed, and petitioned her Majesty's Privy Council 
to have it recalled ; where, besides his patron, the 
Earl of Leicester, he met also with many assisting 
friends : but they were not able to prevail with, or 
against the Archbishop, whom the Queen had in- 
trusted with all Church -pow r er ; and he had received 
so fair a testimony of Mr. Hooker s principles, and 
of his learning and moderation, that he withstood 
all solicitations. But the denying this petition of 
Mr. Tracers, w r as unpleasant to divers of his party $ 
and the reasonableness of it became at last to be so 
publicly magnified by them, and many others of 



214 THE LIFE OF 

that party, as never to be answered : so that, in- 
tending the Bishop's and Mr. Hooker s disgrace, they 
procured it to be privately printed and scattered 
abroad 5 and then Mr. Hooker was forced to appear, 
and make as public an Answer -, which he did, and 
dedicated it to the Archbishop 5 and it proved so 
full an answer, an answer that had in it so much of 
clear reason, and writ with so much meekness and 
majesty of style, that the Bishop began to have him 
in admiration, and to rejoice that he had appeared 
in his cause, and disdained not earnestly to beg his 
friendship ; even a familiar friendship with a man 
of so much quiet learning and humility. 

To enumerate the many particular points, in 
which Mr. Hooker and Mr. Travers dissented, — all, 
or most of which I have seen written, — would prove 
at least tedious : and therefore I shall impose upon 
my Reader no more than two, which shall imme- 
diately follow, and by which he may judge of the 
rest. 

Mr. Travers excepted against Mr. Hooker, for that 
in one of his Sermons he declared, That the assur- 
ance of what we believe by the Word of God is not to 
us so certain as that which we perceive by sense. And 
Mr. Hooker confesseth he said so, and endeavours to 
justify it by the reasons following. 

First ; I taught that the things which God promises 
in his Word are surer than what we touch, handle, or 
see : but are we so sure and certain of them ? If we 
be, why doth God so often prove his promises to us as he 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 215 

doth, by arguments drawn from our sensible experience ? 
For we must be surer of the proof than of the things 
proved j otherwise it is no proof. For example ; 
how is it that many men looking on the moon, at the 
same time, every one knoweth it to be the moon as cer- 
tainly as the other doth ? but many believing one and 
the same promise, have not all one and the same ful- 
ness of persuasion. For how falleth it out, that men 
being assured of any thing by sense, can be no surer of 
it than they are ; when as the strongest in faith that 
liveth upon the earth hath always need to labour, strive, 
and pray, that his assurance concerning heavenly and 
spiritual things may grow, increase, and be augmented ? 

The Sermon, that gave him the cause of this his 
justification, makes the case more plain, by declaring 
That there is, besides this certainty of evidence, a cer- 
tainty of adherence. In which having most excel- 
lently demonstrated what the certainty of adhe- 
rence is, he makes this comfortable use of it, Com- 
fortable, he says., as to weak believers, who suppose 
themselves to be faithless, not to believe, when notwith- 
standing they have their adherence ; the Holy Spirit 
hath his private operations, and worketh secretly in 
them, and effectually too, though they want the inward 
testimony of it. 

Tell this, saith he, to a man that hath a mind too 
much dejected by a sad sense of his sin j to one that, 
by a too severe judging of himself, concludes that 
he wants faith, because he wants the comfortable 
assurance of it 5 and his answer will be, Do not per- 



216 THE LIFE OF 

suade me against my knowledge, against what 1 find 
and feel in myself: I do not, I know, I do not believe. 
« — Mr. Hooker's own words follow. — Well then, to 
favour such men a little in their weakness, let that be 
granted which they do imagine ; be it, that they adhere 
not to God's promises, but are faithless, and without be- 
lief: but are they not grieved for their unbelief? They 
confess they are; do they not wish it might, and also 
strive that it may be otherwise ? We know they do. 
Whence cometh this, but from a secret love and liking, 
that they have of those things believed ? For no man 
can love those things which in his own opinion are 
not ; and if they think those things to be, which they 
shew they love, when they desire to believe them ; then 
must it be, that, by desiri?ig to believe, they prove them- 
selves true believers : for without faith no man thinketh 
that things believed are : which argument all the 
subtilties of infernal powers will never be able to dissolve. 
This is an abridgement of part of the reasons Mr. 
Hooker gives for his justification of this his opinion, 
for which he was excepted against by Mr. Travers. 

Mr. Hooker was also accused by Mr. Travers, for 
that he in one of his Sermons had declared, That 
he doubted not but that God was merciful to many of 
our forefathers living in Popish superstition, for as much 
as they sinned ignorantly : and Mr. Hooker in his 
Answer professeth it to be his judgment, and de- 
clares his reasons for this charitable opinion to be 
as folio weth. 

But first, he states the question about Justification 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 217 

and Works, and how the foundation of Faith without 
works is overthrown ,• and then he proceeds to dis- 
cover that way which natural men and some others 
have mistaken to be the way, by which they hope 
to attain true and everlasting happiness : and hav- 
ing discovered the mistaken, he proceeds to direct 
to that true way, by which, and no other, everlast- 
ing life and blessedness is attainable. And these 
two ways he demonstrates thus : — they be his own 
words that follow : — " That, the way of Nature ; 
u this, the way of Grace ; the end of that way, Salva- 
ft Hon merited, presupposing the righteousness of men s 
" works ; their righteousness, a natural ability to do 
" them • that ability, the goodness of God, which created 
" them in such perfection. But the end of this way, 
u Salvation bestowed upon men as a gift : presupposing 
" not their righteousness, but the forgiveness of their 
" unrighteousness, Justification ; their justification, not 
" their natural ability to do good, but their hearty sor- 
e< row for not doing, and unfeigned belief in Him, for 
" whose sake not-doers are accepted, which is their 
" Vocation ; their vocation, the election of God, taking 
" them out of the number of lost children ; their Elec- 
" tion, a Mediator in whom to be elected ; this media- 
" tion, inexplicable mercy ; this mercy, supposing their 
" misery for whom He vouchsafed to die, and make 
" Himself a Mediator." 

And he also declareth, There is no meritorious 
cause for our Justification, but Christ : no effectual, 
but his mercy ; and says also, We deny the grace of 
g g 



218 THE LIFE OF 

our Lord Jesus Christ, we abuse, disannul, and annihi- 
late the benefit of his passion, if by a proud imagination 
we believe we can merit everlasting life, or can be worthy 
of it. This belief, he declareth, is to destroy the 
very essence of our Justification ; and he makes all 
opinions that border upon this to be very dangerous. 
Yet nevertheless, — and for this he was accused, — 
c< considering how many virtuous and just men, how 
" many Saints and Martyrs have had their dangerous 
" opinions, amongst which this was one, that they hoped 
ce to make God some part of amends, by voluntary 
" punishments which they laid upon themselves : be- 
e< cause by this, or the like erroneous opinions, 
" which do by consequence overthrow the merits of 
" Christ, shall man be so bold as to write on their 
e( graves, Such men are damned ; there is for them no 
ie Salvation ? St. Austin says, Errare possum, Hcere- 
" ticus esse nolo. And except we put a difference 
" betwixt them that err ignorantly, and them that 
" obstinately persist in it, how is it possible that 
" any man should hope to be saved ? Give me a 
" Pope or a Cardinal, whom great afflictions have 
" made to know himself, whose heart God hath 
" touched with true sorrow for all his sins, and 
'* filled with a love of Christ and his Gospel ; whose 
" eyes are willingly open to see the truth, and his 
" mouth ready to renounce all error, — this one 
" opinion of merit excepted, which he thinketh God 
" will require at his hands;— and because he wanteth, 
" trembleth, and is discouraged, and yet can say, 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 219 

" Lord, cleanse me from all my secret sins ! shall I 
" think, because of this, or a like error, such men 
" touch not so much as the hem of Christ's gar- 
" ment I If they do, wherefore should I doubt, but 
u that virtue may proceed from Christ to save them ? 
" No, I will not be afraid to say to such a one, 
" You err in your opinion ; but be of good comfort ■ you 
" have to do with a merciful God, who will make the 
" best of that little which you hold well ,• and not with 
e< a captious sophister, who gathereth the worst out of 
" every thing in which you are mistaken." 

But it will be said, says Mr. Hooker, The admit- 
tance of merit in any degree overthroweth the founda- 
tion, excludeth from the hope of mercy, from all pos- 
sibility of salvation. (And now Mr. Hooker s own 
words follow.) 

" What, though they hold the truth sincerely in 
" all other parts of Christian faith y although they 
" have in some measure all the virtues and graces 
" of the Spirit, although they have all other tokens 
" of God's children in them ? although they be far 
" from having any proud opinion, that they shall be 
" saved, by the worthiness of their deeds ? although 
" the only thing, that troubleth and moles teth them, 
" be a little too much dejection, somewhat too great 
" a fear arising from an erroneous conceit, that God 
" will require a worthiness in them, which they 
" are grieved to find wanting in themselves ? al- 
" though they be not obstinate in this opinion ? 
" although they be willing, and would be glad to 



2<2G THE LIFE OF 

" forsake it, if any one reason were brought suf- 
" ficient to disprove it ? although the only cause 
<e why they do not forsake it ere they die, be their 
" ignorance of that means by which it might be 
e< disproved ? although the cause why the ignorance 
c< in this point is not removed, be the want of know- 
ct ledge in such as should be able, and are not, to 
" remove it V Let me die, says Mr. Hooker, if it be 
ever proved, that simply an error doth exclude a Pope 
or Cardinal in such a case utterly from hope of life. 
" Surely, I must confess, that if it be an error to 
" think that God may be merciful to save men, even 
" when they err, my greatest comfort is my error : 
" were it not for the love I bear to this error, I 
" would never wish to speak or to live." 

I was willing to take notice of these two points, 
as supposing them to be very material ) and that, 
as they are thus contracted, they may prove useful 
to my Reader 5 as also for that the answers be ar- 
guments of Mr. Hooker's great and clear reason, and 
equal charity. Other exceptions were also made 
against him by Mr. Travers, as That he prayed before, 
and not after, his Sermons ; that in his prayers he 
named Bishops; that he kneeled, both when he prayed, 
and when he received the Sacrament ; and — says Mr. 
Hooker in his Defence — other exceptions so like these, 
as but to name, I should have thought a greater fault 
than to commit them. 

And it is not unworthy the noting, that, in the 
manage of so great a controversy, a sharper reproof 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 221 

than this, and one like it, did never fall from the 
happy pen of this humble man. That like it was 
upon a like occasion of exceptions, to which his 
answer was, your next argument consists of railing 
and of reasons ; to your railing. I say nothing ,• to your 
reasons I say what follows. And I am glad of this 
fair occasion to testify the dove-like temper of this 
meek, this matchless man. And doubtless, if Al- 
mighty God had blest the Dissenters from the 
ceremonies and discipline of this Church, with a 
like measure of wisdom and humility, instead of 
their pertinacious zeal, then obedience and truth 
had kissed each other ; then peace and piety had 
flourished in our nation, and this Church and State 
had been blessed like Jerusalem, that is at unity with 
itself: but this can never be expected, till God 
shall bless the common people of this nation with a 
belief, That Schism is a sin, and they not ft to judge 
what is Schism ,• and bless them also with a belief, 
That there may be offences taken which are not given, 
and, That laws are not made for private men to dispute, 
but to obey. 

And this also may be worthy of noting, that these 
exceptions of Mr. Travers against Mr. Hooker proved 
to be felix error, for they were the cause of his 
transcribing those few of his Sermons, which we 
now see printed with his books ; and of his Answer 
to Mr. Travers his Supplication ; and of his most 
learned and useful Discourse of Justification, of Faith, 
and Works : and by their transcription they fell into 



222 THE LIFE OF 

such hands as have preserved them from being lost, 
as too many of his other matchless writings were j 
and from these I have gathered many observations 
in this discourse of his life, 

After the publication of his Answer to the Peti- 
tion of Mr. Travers, Mr. Hooker grew daily into 
greater repute with the most learned and wise of 
the nation : but it had a contrary effect in very 
many of the Temple, that were zealous for Mr. Tra- 
vers, and for his Church-discipline j insomuch, that 
though Mr. Travers left the place, yet the seeds of 
discontent could not be rooted out of that Society, 
by the great reason, and as great meekness, of this 
humble man : for though the chief Benchers gave 
him much reverence and encouragement, yet he 
there met with many neglects and oppositions by 
those of Master Travers' judgment 5 insomuch that 
it turned to his extreme grief : and, that he might 
unbeguile and win them, he designed to write a 
deliberate, sober treatise of the Church's power to 
make Canons for the use of ceremonies, and by 
law to impose an obedience to them, as upon her 
children -, and this he proposed to do in Eight Books 
of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity ,• intending there- 
in to shew such arguments as should force an assent 
from all men, if reason, delivered in sweet language, 
and void of any provocation, were able to do it : 
and, that he might prevent all prejudice, he wrote 
before it a large Preface, or Epistle to the Dissent- 
ing Brethren, wherein there were such bowels of 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 223 

love, and such a commixture of that love with rea- 
son, as was never exceeded but in Holy Writ ; and 
particularly by that of St. Paul to his dear brother 
and fellow- labourer Philemon : than which none 
ever was more like this epistle of Mr. Hooker's. So 
that his dear friend and companion in his studies, 
Dr. Spencer, might, after his death, justly say, What 
admirable height of learning, and depth of judgment, 
dwelt in the lowly mind of this truly humble man; — great 
in all wise mens eyes, except his own -, with what gravity 
and majesty of speech his tongue and pen uttered hea- 
venly mysteries ; whose eyes, in the humility of his 
heart, were always cast down to the ground ; how all 
things that proceeded from him were breathed as from 
the Spirit of Love ; as if he, like the Bird of the Holy 
Ghost, the Dove, had wanted gall; — let those that knew 
him not in his person, judge by these living images of 
his soul, his writings. 

The foundation of these books was laid in the 
Temple ; but he found it no fit place to finish what 
he had there designed ; he therefore earnestly so- 
licited the Archbishop for a remove from that place j 
to whom he spake to this purpose : My Lord, when 
I lost the freedom of my cell, which was my College, yet 
I found some degree of it in my quiet country parson- 
age : but I am weary of the noise and oppositions of 
this place ; and indeed God and Nature did not intend 
me for contentions, but for study and quietness. My 
Lord, my particular contests with Mr. Travers here 
have proved the more unpleasant to me, because I believe 



224 THE LIFE OF 

him to be a good man ; and that belief hath occasioned 
me to examine mine own conscience concerning his 
opinions -, and, to satisfy that, I have consulted the 
Scripture, and other laws, both human and divine, 
whether the conscience of him, and others of his judg- 
ment, ought to be so far complied with, as to alter our 
frame of Church-government, our manner of God's 
worship, our praising and praying to him, and our es- 
tablished ceremonies, as often as his, and other tender 
consciences shall require us. And in this examination, 
I have not only satisfied myself, but have begun a Trea- 
tise, in which I intend a justification of the Laws of our 
Ecclesiastical Polity) in which design God and his 
holy Angels shall at the Last Great Day bear me that 
witness which my conscience now does : that my mean- 
ing is not to provoke any, but rather to satisfy all ten- 
der consciences : and I shall never be able to do this, 
but where I may study, and pray for God's blessing 
upon my endeavours, and keep myself in peace and 
privacy, and behold God's blessing spring out of my 
mother earth, and eat my own bread without oppositions ; 
and therefore, if your Grace can judge, me worthy of 
such a favour, let me beg it, that I may perfect what I 
have begun. 

About this time the Parsonage or Rectory of 
Boscum, in the Diocese of Sarum, and six miles from 
that City, became void. The Bishop of Sarum is 
Patron of it 5 but in the vacancy of that See, — 
which was three years betwixt the translation 
of Bishop Pierce to the See of York, and Bishop 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 225 

Caldwell's admission into it, — the disposal of that, and 
all benefices belonging to that See, during this said 
vacancy, came to be disposed of by the Archbishop 
of Canterbury ,• and he presented Richard Hooker to 
it in the year 1591. And Richard Hooker was also 
in the said year instituted, July \7, to be a Minor 
Prebend of Salisbury, the corps to it being Nether- 
Haven, about ten miles from that City ; which pre- 
bend was of no great value, but intended chiefly to 
make him capable of a better preferment in that 
church. In this Boscum he continued till he had 
finished four of his eight proposed books of the 
Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, and these were en- 
tered into the Register-book in Stationers Hall, the 
9th of March, 1592, but not published till the year 
1594, and then were with the before-mentioned 
large and affectionate Preface, which he directs to 
them that seek — as they term it — the reformation of the 
Laws and Orders Ecclesiastical in the Church of Eng- 
land ; of which books I shall yet say nothing more, 
but that he continued his laborious diligence to 
finish the remaining four during his life ; — of all 
which more properly hereafter 5— but at Boscum he 
finished and published but only the first four, being 
then in the 39th year of his age. 

He left Boscum in the year 1595, by a surrender 
of it into the hands of Bishop Caldwell ,• and he pre- 
sented Benjamin Russel, who was instituted into it 
the 23d of June in the same year. 

The Parsonage of Bishop s Bourne in Kent, three 

Hh 



226 THE LIFE Of 

miles from Canterbury, is in that Archbishop's gift r 
but, in the latter end of the year 1594, Dr. William 
Redman, the Rector of it, was made Bishop of Nor- 
wich ,• by which means the power of presenting to 
it was pro ed vice in the Queen ; and she presented 
Richard Hooker, whom she loved well, to this good 
living of Bourne, the 7th of July, 1595 ;■ in which 
living he continued till his death, without any ad- 
dition of dignity or profit. 

And now having brought our Richard Hooker 

from his birth-place, to this where he found a 

grave, I shall only give some account of his books, 

and of his behaviour in this Parsonage of Bourne, 

and then give a rest both to myself and my Reader. 

His first four books and large epistle have been 

declared to be printed at his being at Boscum, Anno 

1594. Next I am to tell, that at the end of these 

four books there was, when he first printed them, 

this Advertisement to the Reader. " I have for 

" some causes, thought it at this time more fit to 

(t let go these first four books by themselves, than 

c< to stay both them and the rest, till the whole 

" might together be published. Such generalities 

" of the cause in question as are here handled, it 

" will be perhaps not amiss to consider apart, by 

" way of introduction unto the books that are to 

" follow concerning, particulars ; in the mean time 

u the Reader is requested to mend the Printer's 

" errors, as noted underneath." 

And I am next to declare, that his Fifth Book— 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. <m 

which is larger than his first four — was first also 
printed by itself, Anno 1597, and dedicated to his 
patron — for till then he chose none — the Arch- 
bishop. These books were read with an admira- 
tion of their excellency in this, and their just fame 
spread itself also into foreign nations. And I have 
been told, more than forty years past, that either 
Cardinal Allen, or learned Dr. Stapleton, — both 
Englishmen, and in Italy about the time when 
Hooker s four books were first printed, — meeting 
with this general fame of them, were desirous to 
read an author, that both the reformed and the 
learned of their own Romish Church did so much 
magnify ; and therefore caused them to be sent 
for to Rome : and after reading them, boasted to 
the Pope, — which then was Clement the Eighth, — 
That though he had lately said, he never met with an 
English book, whose writer deserved the name of au- 
thor ; yet there now appeared a wonder to them, 
and it would be so to his Holiness, if it were in 
Latin : for a poor obscure English Priest had writ four 
such books of Laws, and Church-polity, and in a style 
that expressed such a grave and so humble a majesty, 
with such clear demonstration of reason, that in all 
their readings they had not met with any that exceeded 
him : and this begot in the Pope an earnest desire 
that Dr. Stapleton should bring the said four books, 
and, looking on the English, read a part of them 
to him in Latin ; which Dr. Stapleton did, to the 
end of the first book j at the conclusion of which, 



228 THE LIFE OF 

the Pope spake to this purpose : There is no learn" 
ing that this man hath not searched into, nothing too 
hard for his understanding: this man indeed deserves 
the name of an author: his books will get reverence by 
age ; for there is in them such seeds of eternity, that if 
the rest be like this, they shall last till the last fire 
shall consume all learning. 

Nor was this high, the only testimony and com- 
mendations given to his books; for at the first 
coming of King James into this kingdom, he en- 
quired of the Archbishop Whitgift for his friend 
Mr. Hooker, that writ the books of Church- polity ; 
to which the answer was, that he died a year before 
Queen Elizabeth, who received the sad news of his 
death with very much sorrow -, to which the King 
replied, And I receive it with no less, that I shall want 
the desired happiness of seeing and discoursing with that 
man, from whose books I have received such satisfac- 
tion : indeed, my Lord, I have received more satisfac- 
tion in reading a leaf or paragraph, in Mr. Hooker, 
though it were but about the fashion of Churches, or 
Church-Music, or the like, but especially of the Sa- 
craments, than I have had in the reading particular 
large treatises written but of one of those subjects by 
others, though very learned men : and I observe there is 
in Mr. Hooker no affected language ; but a grave, 
comprehensive, clear manifestation of reason, and that 
backed with the authority of the Scripture, the Fathers, 
and Schoolmen, and with all Law both Sacred and 
Civil. And, though many others write well, yet in the 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 229 

next age they will be forgotten ; but doubtless there is 
in every page of Mr. Hooker's book the picture of a 
divine soul, such pictures of truth and reason, and 
drawn in so sacred colours, that they shall never fade, 
but give an immortal memory to the author. And it is 
so truly true, that the King thought what he spake, 
that, as the most learned of the nation have, and 
still do mention Mr. Hooker with reverence ; so he 
also did never mention him but with the epithet of 
learned, or judicious, or reverend, or venerable Mr. 
Hooker, 

Nor did his son, our late King Charles the First, 
ever mention him but with the same reverence, en- 
joining his son, our now gracious King, to be stu- 
dious in Mr. Hooker s books. And our learned An- 
tiquary Mr. Camden* mentioning the * InhisAnnahj 
death, the modesty, and other virtues 1599. 

of Mr. Hooker, and magnifying his books, wished, 
that, for the honour of this, and benefit of other nations, 
they were turned into the Universal Language. Which 
work, though undertaken by many, yet they have 
been weary, and forsaken it : but the Reader may 
now expect it, having been long since begun and 
lately finished, by the happy pen of Dr. Earle, now 
Lord Bishop of Salisbury, of whom I may justly 
say, — and let it not offend him, because it is such 
a truth as ought not to be concealed from posterity, 
or those that now live, and yet know him not, — 
that since Mr. Hooker died, none have lived whom 
God hath blessed with more innocent wisdom, 



230 THE LIFE OF 

more sanctified learning, or a more pious, peaceable, 
primitive temper : so that this excellent person 
seems to be only like himself, and our venerable 
Richard Hooker ; and only fit to make the learned 
of all nations happy, in knowing what hath been too 
long confined to the language of our little island. 

There might be many more and just occasions 
taken to speak of his books, which none ever did 
or can commend too much; but I decline them, 
and hasten to an account of his Christian behaviour 
and death at Bourne : in which place he continued 




his customary rules of mortification and self-denial ; 
was much in fasting, frequent in meditation and 
prayers, enjoying those blessed returns, which 
only men of strict lives feel and know, and of 
which men of loose and godless lives cannot be 
made sensible 5 for spiritual things are spiritually 
discerned. 

At his entrance into this place,, his friendship was 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 231 

much sought for by Dr. Hadrian Saravia, then, or 
about that time, made one of the Prebends of Can- 
terbury ; a German by birth, and sometimes a Pas- 
tor both in Flanders and Holland, where he had 
studied, and well considered the controverted points 
concerning Episcopacy and Sacrilege ; and in Eng- 
land had a just occasion to declare his judgment 
concerning both, unto his brethren ministers of the 
Low Countries; which was excepted against by 
Theodore Beza and others ; against whose excep- 
tions he rejoined, and thereby became the happy 
author of many learned tracts writ in Latin, espe- 
cially of three $ one, of the Degrees of Ministers, and 
of the Bishops' superiority above the Presbytery ; a 
second, against Sacrilege; and a third of Christian 
Obedience to Princes ,• the last being occasioned by 
Gretzerus the Jesuit. And it is observable, that 
when, in a time of church-tumults, Beza gave his 
reasons to the Chancellor of Scotland for the abro- 
gation of Episcopacy in that nation, partly by let- 
ters, and more fully in a Treatise of a threefold 
Episcopacy, — which he calls divine, human, and sa~ 
tanical, — this Dr. Saravia had, by the help of Bishop 
Whitgift, made such an early discovery of their in- 
tentions, that he had almost as soon answered that 
Treatise as it became public ; and he therein dis- 
covered how Bezas opinion did contradict that of 
Calvin s and his adherents 3 leaving them to inter- 
fere with themselves in point of Episcopacy. But 
of these tracts it will not concern me to say more,. 



232 THE LIFE OF 

than that they were most of them dedicated to his, 
and the Church of England's watchful patron, John 
Whitgift, the Archbishop j and printed about the 
time in which Mr. Hooker also appeared first to the 
world, in the publication of his first four books of 
Ecclesiastical Polity. 

This friendship being sought for by this learned 
Doctor, you may believe was not denied by Mr. 
Hooker, who was by fortune so like him, as to be 
engaged against Mr. Travers, Mr. Cartwright, and 
others of their judgment, in a controversy too like 
Dr. Saravias ; so that in this year of 1595, and in 
this place of Bourne, these two excellent persons 
began a holy friendship, increasing daily to so high 
and mutual affections, that their two wills seemed 
to be but one and the same -, and their designs both 
for the glory of God, and peace of the Church, still 
assisting and improving each other's virtues, and 
the desired comforts of a peaceable piety j which 
I have willingly mentioned, because it gives a foun- 
dation to some things that follow. 

This Parsonage of Bourne is from Canterbury three 
miles, and near to the common road that leads 
from that City to Dover ; in which Parsonage Mr. 
Hooker had not been twelve months, but his books, 
and the innocency and sanctity of his life became 
so remarkable, that many turned out of the road, 
and others — scholars especially — went purposely to 
see the man, whose life and learning were so much 
admired : and Alas ! as our Saviour said of St. 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 233 

John Baptist, What went they out to see ? a man 
clothed in purple and fine linen ? No, indeed j but 
an obscure, harmless man ,• a man in poor clothes, his 
loins usually girt in a coarse gown, or canonical coat; 
of a mean stature, and stooping, and yet more lowly in 
the thoughts of his soul: his body worn out, not with 
age, but study and holy mortifications ; his face full of 
heat pimples, begot by his unactivity and sedentary life. 
And to this true character of his person, let me 
add this of his disposition and behaviour : God and 
Nature blessed him with so blessed a bashfulness, 
that as in his younger days his pupils might easily 
look him out of countenance ; so neither then, nor 
in his age, did he ever willingly look any man in the 
face : and was of so mild and humble a nature, that his 
poor Parish-Clerk and he did never talk but with both 
their hats on, or both off, at the same time : and to 
this may be added, that though he was not pur- 
blind, yet he was short or weak-sighted ; and 
where he fixed his eyes at the beginning of his 
sermon, there they continued till it was ended : and 
the Reader has a liberty to believe, that his modesty 
and dim sight were some of the reasons why he 
trusted Mrs. Churchman to choose his wife. 

This Parish-Clerk lived till the third or fourth 
year of the late Long Parliament ; betwixt which 
time and Mr. Hookers death there had come many 
to see the place of his burial, and the Monument 
dedicated to his memory by Sir William Cowper, 
who still lives j and the poor Clerk had many 



234 THE LIFE OF 

rewards for shewing Mr. Hookers grave place, and 
his said Monument, and did always hear Mr. Hooker 
mentioned with commendations and reverence : to 
all which he added his own knowledge and obser- 
vations of his humility and holiness j and in all 
which discourses the poor man was still more con- 
firmed in his opinion of Mr. Hooker's virtues and 
learning. But it so fell out, that about the said 
third or fourth year of the Long Parliament, the 
then present Parson of Bourne was sequestered, — 
you may guess why, — and a Genevan Minister put 
into his good living. This, and other like seques- 
trations, made the Clerk express himself in a won- 
der, and say, They had sequestered so many good men, 
that he doubied, if his good master Mr. Hooker had 
lived till now, they would have sequestered him too I 

It was not long before this intruding Minister had 
made a party in and about the said Parish, that 
were desirous to receive the Sacrament as in Ge- 
neva 5 to which end, the day was appointed for a 
select company, and forms and stools set about the 
altar, or communion-table, for them to sit and eat 
and drink : but when they went about this work, 
there was a want of some joint-stools, which the 
Minister sent the Clerk to fetch, and then to fetch 
cushions,—- but not to kneel upon. — When the 
Clerk saw them begin to sit down, he began to 
wonder ; but the Minister bade him cease wondering, 
and lock the Church-door : to whom he replied, Pray 
take you the keys, and lock me out : I will never come 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 235 

more into this Church ,• for all men will say, my master 
Hooker was a good man, and a good scholar ; and I 
am sure it was not used to be thus in his days : and 
report says the old man went presently home and 
died ; I do not say died immediately, but within a 
few days after. 

But let us leave this grateful Clerk in his quiet 
grave, and return to Mr. Hooker himself, continuing 
our observations of his Christian behaviour in this 
place, where he gave a holy valediction to all the 
pleasures and allurements of earth 5 possessing his 
soul in a virtuous quietness, which he maintained 
by constant study, prayers, and meditations. His 
use was to preach once every Sunday, and he, or his 
Curate, to catechise after the Second Lesson in the 
Evening Prayer. His Sermons were neither long 
nor earnest, but uttered with a grave zeal, and an 
humble voice : his eyes always fixed on one place, 
to prevent imagination from wandering ; insomuch, 
that he seemed to study as he spake. The design 
of his Sermons — as indeed of all his discourses — 
was to shew reasons for what he spake 5 and with 
these reasons such a kind of rhetoric, as did rather 
convince and persuade, than frighten men into 
piety 3 studying not so much for matter, — which 
he never wanted, — as for apt illustrations, to inform 
and teach his unlearned hearers by familiar ex- 
amples, and then make them better by convincing 
applications ; never labouring by hard words, and 
then by needless distinctions and subdistinctions, to 



236 THE LIFE OF 

amuse his hearers, and get glory to himself} but 
glory only to God. Which intention, he would 
often say, was as discernible in a Preacher, as a na- 
tural from an artificial beauty. 

He never failed the Sunday before every Ember- 
week to give notice of it to his parishioners, per- 
suading them both to fast, and then to double their 
devotions for a learned and a pious Clergy, but 
especially the last j saying often, That the life of a 
pious Clergyman was visible rhetoric ; and so convincing , 
that the most godless men — though they would not deny 
themselves the enjoyment of their present lusts — did yet 
secretly wish themselves like those of the strictest lives. 
And to what he persuaded others, he added his own 
example of fasting and prayer ; and did usually 
every Ember-week take from the Parish-Clerk the 
key of the Church- door, into which place he retired 
every day, and locked himself up for many hours ; 
and did the like most Fridays and other days of 
fasting. 

He would by no means omit the customary time 
of Procession, persuading all, both rich and poor, if 
they desired the preservation of love, and their 
Parish-rights and liberties, to accompany him in 
his perambulation ; and most did so : in which 
perambulation he would usually express more plea- 
sant discourse than at other times, and would then 
always drop some loving and facetious observations 
to be remembered against the next year, especially 
by the boys and young people j still inclining them, 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 237 

and all his present parishioners, to meekness, and 
mutual kindnesses and love j because Love thinks 
not evil, but covers a multitude of infirmities. 

He was diligent to enquire who of his Parish 
were sick, or any ways distressed, and would often 
visit them, unsent for 5 supposing that the fittest 
time to discover to them those errors, to which 
health and prosperity had blinded them. And hav- 
ing by pious reasons and prayers moulded them into 
holy resolutions for the time to come, he would 
incline them to confession and bewailing their sins, 
with purpose to forsake them, and then to receive 
the Communion, both as a strengthening of those 
holy resolutions, and as a seal betwixt God and 
them of his mercies to their souls, in case that 
present sicknesss did put a period to their lives. 

And as he was thus watchful and charitable to 
the sick, so he was as diligent to prevent law-suits ; 
still urging his parishioners and neighbours to bear 
with each other's infirmities, and live in love, be- 
cause, as St. John says, He that lives in love, lives in 
God ; for God is love. And to maintain this holy 
fire of love constantly burning on the altar of a pure 
heart, his advice was to watch and pray, and always 
keep themselves fit to receive the Communion, and 
then to receive it often 5 for it was both a confirm- 
ing and strengthening of their graces. This was 
his advice j and at his entrance or departure out of 
any house, he would usually speak to the whole 
family, and bless them by name ; insomuch, that as 



238 THE LIFE OF 

he seemed in his youth to be taught of God, so he 
seemed in this place to teach his precepts, as 
Enoch did, by walking with him in all holiness and 
humility, making each day a step towards a blessed 
eternity. And though, in this weak and declining 
age of the world, such examples are become barren, 
and almost incredible ; yet let his memory be blest 
with this true recordation, because he that praises 
Richard Hooker, praises God who hath given such 
gifts to men $ and let this humble and affectionate 
relation of him become such a pattern, as may in- 
vite posterity to imitate these his virtues. 

This was his constant behaviour both at Bourne, 
and in all the places in which he lived : thus did he 
walk with God, and tread the footsteps of primitive 
piety j and yet, as that great example of meekness 
and purity, even our blessed Jesus, was not free 
from false accusations, no more was this disciple 
of his, this most humble, most innocent, holy man. 
His was a slander parallel to that of chaste Susan- 
nah's by the wicked Elders j or that against St. 
Athanasius, as it is recorded in his life, — for that 
holy man had heretical enemies, — a slander which 
this age calls trepanning. The particulars need not 
a repetition ; and that it was false, needs no other 
testimony than the public punishment of his ac- 
cusers, and their open confession of his innocency. 
It was said, that the accusation was contrived by a 
dissenting brother, one that endured not Church- 
ceremonies, hating him for his book's sake, which 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 239 

he was not able to answer 5 and his name hath 
been told me : but I have not so much confidence 
in the relation, as to make my pen fix a scandal on 
him to posterity 5 I shall rather leave it doubtful 
till the great day of revelation. But this is certain, 
that he lay under the great charge, and the anxiety 
of this accusation, and kept it secret to himself for 
many months ; and, being a helpless man, had lain 
longer under this heavy burthen, but that the Pro- 
tector of the innocent gave such an accidental occa- 
sion, as forced him to make it known to his two 
dearest friends, Edwin Sandys and George Cranmer, 
who were so sensible of their Tutor's sufferings, 
that they gave themselves no rest, till by their dis- 
quisitions and diligence they had found out the 
fraud, and brought him the welcome news, that his 
accusers did confess they had wronged him, and 
begged his pardon. To which the good man's 
reply was to this purpose : The Lord forgive them ; 
and the Lord bless you for this comfortable news. Now 
have I a just occasion to say with Solomon, Friends 
are born for the days of adversity ; and such you have 
proved to me. And to my God I say, as did the 
Mother of St. John Baptist, Thus hath the Lord 
dealt with me, in the day wherein he looked upon me, 
to take away my reproach among men. And, my 
God ! neither my life, nor my reputation, are safe in 
mine own keeping ; but in thine, who didst take care of 
me when I yet hanged upon my mother s breast. Blessed 
are they that put their trust in thee, Lord ! for when 



240 THE LIFE OF 

false witnesses were risen up against me ; when shame 
was ready to cover my face; when my nights were 
restless; when my soul thirsted for a deliverance, as the 
hart panteth after the rivers of waters; then thou, 
Lord, didst hear my complaints, pity my condition, and 
art now become my deliverer ; and as long as I live I 
will hold up my hands in this manner, and magnify thy 
mercies, ivho didst not give me over as a prey to mine 
enemies : the net is broken, and they are taken in it. 
Oh ! blessed are they that put their trust in thee ! and 
no prosperity shall make me forget those days of sorrow, 
or to perform those vows that I have made to thee hi the 
days of my affliction ; for with such sacrifices, thou, 
God ! art well pleased ; and I will pay them. 

Thus did the joy and gratitude of this good man's 
heart break forth 5 and it is observable, that as the 
invitation to this slander was his meek behaviour 
and dove-like simplicity, for which he was remark- 
able ; so his Christian charity ought to be imitated. 
For though the spirit of revenge is so pleasing to 
mankind, that it is never conquered but by a super- 
natural grace, revenge being indeed so deeply 
rooted in human nature, that, to prevent the ex-. 
cesses of it, — for men would not know moderation, 
— Almighty God allows not any degree of it to any 
man, but says Vengeance is mine : and though this 
be said positively by God himself, yet this revenge 
is so pleasing, that man is hardly persuaded to 
submit the manage of it to the time, and justice, and 
wisdom of his Creator, but would hasten to be his 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 241 

own executioner of it. And yet nevertheless, if any 
man ever did wholly decline, and leave this pleasing 
passion to the time and measure of God alone, it 
was this Richard Hooker, of whom I write : for 
when his slanderers were to suffer, he laboured to 
procure their pardon ; and when that was denied 
him, his reply was, That however he would fast and 
pray that God would give them repentance, and patience 
to undergo their punishment. And his prayers were 
so far returned into his own bosom, that the first 
was granted, if we may believe a penitent behaviour, 
and an open confession. And 'tis observable, that 
after this time he would often say to Dr. Saravia, 
Oh ! with what quietness did I enjoy my soul, after I was 
free from the fears of my slander ! And how much more 
after a conflict and victory over my desires of revenge ! 
About the year 1600, and of his age forty-six, he 
fell into a long and sharp sickness, occasioned by a 
cold taken in his passage by water betwixt London 
and Gravesend, from the malignity of which he was 
never recovered 3 for after that time, till his death, 
he was not free from thoughtful days and restless 
nights : but a submission to His will that makes the 
sick man's bed easy, by giving rest to his soul, made 
his very languishment comfortable : and yet all this 
time he was solicitous in his study, and said often 
to Dr. Saravia— who saw him daily, and was the 
chief comfort of his life, — That he did not beg a long 
life of God for any other reason, but to live to finish 
his three remaining books of Polity ; and then, Lord, 

Kk 



242 THE LIFE OF 

let thy servant depart in peace ; which was his usual 
expression. And God heard his prayers, though he 
denied the Church the benefit of them, as com- 
pleted by himself ; and 'tis thought he hastened 
his own death, by hastening to give life to his books. 
But this is certain, that the nearer he was to his 
death, the more he grew in humility, in holy thoughts, 
and resolutions. 

About a month before his death, this good man, 
that never knew, or at least never considered, the 
pleasures of the palate, became first to lose his 
appetite, and then to have an averseness to all food, 
insomuch that he seemed to live some intermitted 
weeks by the smell of meat only, and yet still 
studied and writ. And now his guardian angel 
seemed to foretel him that the day of his disso- 
lution drew near] for which his vigorous soul 
appeared to thirst. 

In this time of his sickness, and not many days 
before his death, his house was robbed $ of which 
he having notice, his question was, Are my books 
and written papers safe ? And being answered that 
they were ,• his reply was, Then it matters not ,• for 
no other loss can trouble me. 

About one day before his death, Dr. Saravia, who 
knew the very secrets of his soul, — for they were 
supposed to be confessors to each other, — came to 
him, and, after a conference of the benefit, the 
necessity, and safety of the Church's absolution, it 
was resolved the Doctor should give him both that 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 243 

and the Sacrament the day following. To which 
end the Doctor came, and, after a short retirement 
and privacy, they two returned to the company ; 
and then the Doctor gave him, and some of those 
friends which were with him, the blessed Sacrament 
of the body and blood of our Jesus. Which being 
performed, the Doctor thought he saw a reverend 
gaiety and joy in his face 5 but it lasted not long 5 
for his bodily infirmities did return suddenly, and 
became more visible, insomuch that the Doctor 
apprehended death ready to seize him -, yet, after 
some amendment, left him at night, with a promise 
to return early the day following 3 which he did, 
and then found him better in appearance, deep in 
contemplation, and not inclinable to discourse 5 
which gave the Doctor occasion to require his pre- 
sent thoughts. To which he replied, That he was 
meditating the number and nature of Angels, and their 
blessed obedience and order, without which, peace could 
not be in Heaven : and Oh ! that it might be so on 
Earth ! After which words, he said, I have lived to 
see this world is made up of perturbations ,• and I have 
been long preparing to leave it, and gathering comfort 
for the dreadful hour of making my account with God, 
which I now apprehend to be near : and though I have 
by his grace loved him in my youth, and feared him in 
mine age, and laboured to have a conscience void of 
offence to him, and to all men; yet if thou, O Lord! be 
extreme to mark what I have done amiss, who can abide 
it? And therefore, where I have failed, Lord, shew 



244 THE LIFE OF 

mercy to me; for I plead not my righteousness, but the 
forgiveness of my unrighteousness, for His merits, who 
died to purchase pardon for penitent sinners. And 
since I owe thee a death, Lord, let it not be terrible, and 
then take thine own time ; I submit to it : let not mine, 
O Lord .' but let thy will be done. With which ex- 
pression he fell into a dangerous slumber ; dange- 
rous as to his recovery, yet recover he did, but it 
was to speak only these few words : Good Doctor, 
God hath heard my daily petitions, for I am at peace 
with all men, and he is at peace with me -, and from that 
blessed assurance I feel that inward joy, which this 
world can neither give nor take from me : my conscience 
beareth me this witness, and this witness makes the 
thoughts of death joyful. I could wish to live to do 
the Church more service; but cannot hope it, for my 
days are past as a shadow that returns not. More he 
would have spoken, but his spirits failed him 3 and, 
after a short conflict betwixt Nature and Death, a 
quiet sigh put a period to his last breath, and so he 
fell asleep. And now he seems to rest like Lazarus 
in Abraham's bosom. Let me here draw his curtain, 
till with the most glorious company of the Patriarchs 
and Apostles, the most Noble Army of Martyrs and 
Confessors, this most learned, most humble, holy 
man shall also awake to receive an eternal tran- 
quillity, and with it a greater degree of glory, than 
common Christians shall be made partakers of. 

In the mean time, Bless, Lord ! Lord, bless his 
brethren, the Clergy of this yiation, with effectual en- 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 245 

deavours to attain, if not to his great learning, yet to 
his remarkable meekness, his godly simplicity, and his 
Christian moderation; for these will bring peace at the 
last. And, Lord, let his most excellent writings be 
blest with what he designed, when he undertook them : 
which was, glory to thee, O God ! on high, peace in thy 
Church, and goodwill to mankind. Amen, Amen. 

IZAAK WALTON. 



This following Epitaph was long since presented to the 
world, in memory of Mr. Hooker, by Sir William 
Cowper, who also built him a fair Monument in Bourne 
Church, and acknowledges him to have been his spi- 
ritual father. 

Though nothing can be spoke worthy his fame, 

Or the remembrance of that precious name, 

Judicious Hooker; though this cost be spent 

On him, that hath a lasting monument 

In his own books ; yet ought we to express, 

If not his worth, yet our respectfulness. 

Church-Ceremonies he maintain'd j then why 

Without all ceremony should he die ? 

Was it because his life and death should be 

Both equal patterns of humility ? 

Or that perhaps this only glorious one 

Was above all, to ask, why had he none ? 

Yet he, that lay so long obscurely low, 

Doth now preferr'd to greater honours go. 

Ambitious men, learn hence to be more wise, 

Humility is the true way to rise : 

And God in me this lesson did inspire, 

To bid this humble man, " Friend, sit up higher." 



[ 246 ] 

AN 

APPENDIX 

TO THE 

LIFE OF MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 



And now, having by a long and laborious search satis- 
fied myself, and I hope my Reader, by imparting to him 
the true relation of Mr. Hooker's life, I am desirous also 
to acquaint him with some observations that relate to it, 
and which could not properly fall to be spoken till after 
his death ; of which my Reader may expect a brief and 
true account in the following Appendix. 

And first, it is not to be doubted but that he died in 
the forty-seventh, if not in the forty-sixth year of his 
age ; which I mention, because many have believed him 
to be more aged : but I have so -examined it, as to be 
confident I mistake not ; and for the year of his death, 
Mr. Camden, who in his Annals of Queen Elizabeth, 1599, 
mentions him with a high commendation of his life and 
learning, declares him to die in the year 1599 ; and yet 
in that inscription of his Monument, set up at the charge 
of Sir William Cowper, in Bourne Church, where Mr. 
Hooker was buried, his death is there said to be in Anno 
1603: but doubtless both are mistaken; for I have it 
attested under the hand of William Somner, the Arch- 
bishop's Registrar for the Province of Canterbury, that 
Richard Hooker's Will bears date October 26th in Anna 



APPENDIX, &c. 



247 



1600, and that it was proved 
the third of December fol- 
lowing.* 

And that at his death he 
left four daughters, Alice, 
Cicely \ Jane, and Margaret; 



* And the Reader may- 
take notice, that since I first 
writ this Appendix to the Life 
of Mr. Hooker, Mr. Fulman, 
of Corpus Christi College, 
hath shewed me a good au- 
thority for the very day and 
hour of Mr. Hooker's death, 



that he gave to each of them in one of his books of Polity, 

an hundred pounds ; that he whic 5 ha J he ™ ^^shop 
. r T ^• t Lau<Ts. In which book, De- 
left Joan, his wife, his sole side many considerable mar- 
executrix ; and that, by his ginal notes of some passages 
invpntnrv hU P«tatP_a o-rpat of his time,under the Bishop's 
inventory nib estate— a great own handj there is also writ- 
part of it being in books — ten in the title-page of that 
came to 1092/. 9,9. 2d. which book— which now is Mr. 

, , . Fulman's — this attestation : 

was much more than he Richardiis Hooker »»>«*m- 

thought himself worth ; and mis doctrines dotibits ornatus, 

which was not got by his care, de EcclesiA pratipuh Angli- 

° cana optxme meritus ,obut No- 

much less by the good house- vemo . 2, circiter horamsecun- 

wiferv of his wife, but saved dam postmeridianam, Anno 

— ' 1 fiflO 

by his trusty servant, Thomas 

Lane, that was wiser than his master in getting money 
for him, and more frugal than his mistress in keeping 
of it. Of which Will of Mr. Hooker's I shall say no 
more, but that his dear friend Thomas, the father of 
George Cranmer, — of whom I have spoken, and shall 
have occasion to say more, — was one of the witnesses 
to it. 

One of his eldest daughters was married to one Cha- 
linor, sometime a School-master in Chichester, and are 
both dead long since. Margaret, his youngest daughter, 
was married unto Ezekiel Charlie, Bachelor in Divinity, 
and Rector of St. Nicholas in Harbledown near Canter- 
bury, who died about sixteen years past, and had a son 
Ezekiel, now living, and in Sacred Orders ; being at this 



248 APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF 

time Rector of Waldron in Sussex. She left also a 
daughter, with both whom I have spoken not many 
months past, and find her to be a widow in a condition 
that wants not, but very far from abounding. And 
these two attested unto me, that Richard Hooker, their 
grandfather, had a sister, by name Elizabeth Harvey, 
that lived to the age of 121 years, and died in the month 
of September, 1663. 

For his other two daughters I can learn little certainty, 
but have heard they both died before they were mar- 
riageable. And for his wife, she was so unlike Jephtha's 
daughter, that she staid not a comely time to bewail her 
widowhood ; nor lived long enough to repent her second 
marriage ; for which, doubtless, she would have found 
cause, if there had been but four months betwixt Mr. 
Hooker's and her death. But she is dead, and let her 
other infirmities be buried with her. 

Thus much briefly for his age, the year of his death, 
his estate, his wife, and his children. I am next to 
speak of his books ; concerning which I shall have a 
necessity of being longer, or shall neither do right to 
myself, or my Reader, which is chiefly intended in this 
Appendix. 

I have declared in his Life, that he proposed Eight 
Books, and that his first Four were printed Anno 1594, 
and his Fifth book first printed, and alone, Anno 1597 ; 
and that he lived to finish the remaining Three of the 
proposed Eight : but whether we have the last Three 
as finished by himself, is a just and material question ; 
concerning which I do declare, that I have been told 
almost forty years past, by one that very well knew Mr. 
Hooker and the affairs of his family, that, about a month 
after the death of Mr. Hooker, Bishop Whitgift, then 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 249 

Archbishop of Canterbury, sent one of his Chaplains to 
enquire of Mrs. Hooker, for the three remaining books 
of Polity, writ l)y her husband : of which she would not, 
or could not, give any account : and that about three 
months after that time the Bishop procured her to be 
sent for to London, and then by his procurement she 
was to be examined by some of her Majesty's Council, 
concerning the disposal of those books : but, by way of 
preparation for the next day's examination, the Bishop 
invited her to Lambeth, and after some friendly ques- 
tions, she confessed to him, that one Mr. Charke, and 
another Minister that dwelt near Canterbury, came to her, 
and desired that they might go into her husband's study , 
and look upon some of his writings : and that there they 
two burnt and tore many of them, assuring her, that they 
were writings not fit to be seen ; and that she knew nothing 
more concerning them. Her lodging was then in King- 
street in Westminster, where she was found next morn- 
ing dead in her bed, and her new husband suspected and 
questioned for it ; but he was declared innocent of her 
death. 

And I declare also, that Dr. John Spencer, — men- 
tioned in the Life of Mr. Hooker, — who was of Mr. 
Hooker's College, and of his time there, and betwixt 
whom there was so friendly a friendship, that they con- 
tinually advised together in all their studies, and parti- 
cularly in what concerned these books of Polity — this 
Dr. Spencer, the Three perfect books being lost, had 
delivered into his hands— I think by Bishop Whitgift — 
the imperfect books, or first rough draughts of them, to 
be made as perfect as they might be by him, who both 
knew Mr. Hooker's hand-writing, and was best acquainted 
with his intentions. And a fair testimony of this may 
l1 



250 APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF 

appear by an Epistle, first, and usually printed before 
Mr. Hooker's Five books, — but omitted, I know not why, 
in the last impression of the Eight printed together in 
Anno 1662, in which the Publishers seem to impose the 
three doubtful books, to be the undoubted books of Mr. 
Hooker, — with these two letters J. S. at the end of the 
said Epistle, which was meant for this John Spencer : 
in which Epistle the Reader may find these words, which 
may give some authority to what I have here written of 
his last Three books. 

And though Mr. Hooker hastened his ovm death by 
hastening to give life to his books, yet he held out with 
his eyes to behold these Benjamins, these sons of his 
right hand, though to him they proved Benonies, sons of 
pain and sorrow. But some evil-disposed minds, whether 
of malice, or covetousness, or wicked blind zeal, it is un- 
certain, as soon as they were born, and their father dead, 
smothered them, and by conveying the perfect copies, left 
unto us nothing but the old, imperfect, mangled draughts, 
dismembered into pieces ; no favour, no grace, not the 
shadow of themselves remaining in them. Had the Father 
lived to behold them thus defaced, he might rightly have 
named them Benonies, the sons of sorrow : but being the 
learned will not suffer them to die and be buried, it is in- 
tended the world shall see them as they are ; the learned 
will find in them some shadows and resemblances of their 
father's face. God grant, that as they were with their 
brethren dedicated to the Church for messengers of peace: 
so, in the strength of that little breath of life that re- 
maineth in them, they may prosper in their work, and, by 
satisfying the doubts of such as are willing to learn, they 
may help to give an end to the calamities of these our civil 
wars, J. So 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 251 

And next the Reader may note, that this Epistle of 
Dr. Spencer's was writ and first printed within four 
years after the death of Mr. Hooker, in which time all 
diligent search had been made for the perfect copies ; 
and then granted not recoverable, and therefore en- 
deavoured to be completed out of Mr. Hooker's rough 
draughts, as is expressed by the said Dr. Spencer in the 
said Epistle, since whose death it is now fifty years. 

And I do profess by the faith of a Christian, that Dr. 
Spencer's wife — who was my Aunt, and Sister to George 
Cranmer, of whom I have spoken — told me forty years 
since, in these, or in words to this purpose : That her 
husband had made up, or finished Mr . Hooker's last Three 
books ; and that upon her husband's death-bed, or in his 
last sickness, he gave them into her hand, with a charge 
that they should not be seen by any man, but be by her 
delivered into the hands of the then Archbishop ^Canter- 
bury, which was Dr. Abbot, or unto Dr. King, then 
Bishop of London, and that she did as he enjoined her. 

I do conceive, that from Dr. Spencer's, and no other 
copy, there have been divers transcripts ; and I know 
that these were to be found in several places ; as namely, 
in Sir Thomas Bodley's Library ; in that of Dr. Andrews, 
late Bishop of Winton ,• in the late Lord Conway's ; in 
the Archbishop of Canterbury's ; and in the Bishop of 
Armagh's ; and in many others : and most of these pre- 
tended to be the Author's own hand, but much disagree- 
ing, being indeed altered and diminished, as men have 
thought fittest to make Mr. Hooker's judgment suit with 
their fancies, or give authority to their corrupt designs ; 
and for proof of a part of this, take these following tes- 
timonies. 

Dr. Barnard, sometime Chaplain to Dr. Usher, late 



252 APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF 

Lord Archbishop of Armagh, hath declared in a late 
book, called Clavi Trabales, printed by Richard Hodg- 
kinson, anno 1661, that, in his search and examination 
of the said Bishop's manuscripts, he found the Three 
written books which were supposed the Sixth, Seventh, 
and Eighth of Mr. Hooker 's books of Ecclesiastical Polity ; 
and that in the said Three books—now printed as Mr. 
Hoohefs—- there are so many omissions, that they amount 
to many paragraphs, and which cause many ineoheren- 
cies : the omissions are set down at large in the said 
printed book, to which I refer the Reader for the whole ; 
but think fit in this place to insert this following short 
part of some of the said omissions. 

First t as there could he in natural bodies no motion of 
any thing, unless there were some first which moved all 
things, and continued unmoveable ; even so in politic socie- 
ties there must be some unpunishable, or else no man shall 
suffer punishment : for sith punishments proceed always 
from superiors, to whom the administration of justice be- 
longeih ; which administration must have necessarily a foun- 
tain, that deriveth it to all others, and receiveth not from 
any, because otherwise the course of justice should go in- 
finitely in a circle, every superior having his superior with- 
out end, which cannot be : therefore a well-spring, it fol- 
loweth, there is: a supreme head of justice, whereunto all 
are subject, but itself in subjection to none. Which kind 
of pre-eminency if some ought to have in a kingdom, who 
but a King shall have it f Kings, therefore, or no man, 
can have lawful power to judge. 

If private men offend, there is the Magistrate over them., 
which judgeth ; if Magistrates, they have their Prince; 
if Princes, there is Heaven, a tribunal, before ivhich they 
shall appear ; on earth they are not accountable to any. 
Here, says the Doctor, it breaks off abruptly. 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 253 

And I have these words also attested under the hand of 
Mr. Fabian Philips, a man of note for his useful books. I 
will make oath, if I shall be required, that Dr. Sanderson, 
the late Bishop of Lincoln, did a little before his death 
affirm to me, he had seen a manuscript affirmed to him 
to be the hand-writing of Mr. Richard Hooker, in which 
there was no mention made of the King or supreme go- 
vernors being accountable to the people. This I will 
make oath, that that good man attested to me. 

Fabian Phillips. 

So that there appears to be both omissions and addi- 
tions in the said last Three printed books : and this may 
probably be one reason why Dr. Sanderson, the said 
learned Bishop, — whose writings are so highly and justly 
valued, — gave a strict charge near the time of his death, 
or in his last Will, Tliat nothing of his that was not already 
printed, should be printed after his death. 

It is well known how high a value our learned King 
James put upon the books writ by Mr. Hooker; and 
known also that our late King Charles — the Martyr for 
the Church — valued them the second of all books, tes- 
tified by his commending them to the reading of his son 
Charles, that now is our gracious King : and you may 
suppose that this Charles the First was not a stranger to 
the Three pretended books, because, in a discourse with 
the Lord Say, in the time of the Long Parliament, when 
the said Lord required the King to grant the truth of his 
argument, because it was the judgment of Mr. Hooker,- — 
quoting him in one of the three written books, the King 
replied, " They were not allowed to be Mr. Hooker's 
books : but, however, he would allow them to be Mr. 
Hooker's, and consent to what his Lordship proposed to 



254 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 

prove out of those doubtful books, if he would but consent 
to the judgment of Mr. Hooker, in the other five, that were 
the undoubted books of Mr. Hooker." 

In this relation concerning these Three doubtful books 
of Mr. Hooker's, my purpose was to enquire, then set 
down what I observed and know; which I have done, 
not as an engaged person, but indifferently; and now 
leave my Reader to give sentence, for their legitimation, 
as to himself; but so as to leave others the same liberty 
of believing, or disbelieving them to be Mr. Hooker* s: 
and 'tis observable, that as Mr. Hooker advised with Dr. 
Spencer, in the design and manage of these books; so 
also, and chiefly, with his dear pupil, George Cranmer, 
— whose sister was the wife of Dr. Spencer — of which 
this following letter may be a testimony, and doth also 
give authority to some things mentioned both in this Ap- 
pendix, and in the Life of Mr. Hooker, and is therefore 
added. J. W. 



GEORGE CRANMER'S 
LETTER UNTO MR. RICHARD HOOKER, 

February, 1598. 



What posterity is likely to judge of these matters con- 
cerning Church-discipline, we may the better conjecture, 
if we call to mind what our own age, within few years, 
upon better experience, hath already judged concerning 
the same. It may be remembered, that at first, the 
greatest part of the learned in the land were either eagerly 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 255 

affected, or favourably inclined that way The books then 
written for the most part savoured of the disciplinary 
style; it sounded every where in pulpits, and in common 
phrase of men's speech. The contrary part began to 
fear they had taken a wrong course ; many which im- 
pugned the discipline, yet so impugned it, not as not 
being the better form of government, but as not being 
so convenient for our state, in regard of dangerous in- 
novations thereby like to grow:* 
one man alone there was to speak , °Arclibish ' 

of, — whom let no suspicion of flat- 
tery deprive of his deserved commendation — who, in the 
defiance of the one part, and courage of the other, stood 
in the gap and gave others respite to prepare themselves 
to the defence, which, by the sudden eagerness and vio- 
lence of their adversaries, had otherwise been prevented, 
wherein God hath made good unto him his own impress, 
Vincit quipatitur: for what contumelious indignities he 
hath at their hands sustained, the world is witness; and 
what reward of honour above his adversaries God hath 
bestowed upon him, themselves — though nothing glad 
thereof — must needs confess. Now of late years the heat 
of men towards the discipline is greatly decayed; their 
judgments begin to sway on the other side; the learned 
have weighed it, and found it light ; wise men conceive 
some fear, lest it prove not only not the best kind of go- 
vernment, but the very bane and destruction of all go- 
vernment. The cause of this change in men's opinions 
may be drawn from the general nature of error, disguised 
and clothed with the name of truth; which did mightily 
and violently possess men at first, but afterwards, the 
weakness thereof being by time discovered, it lost that 
reputation, which before it had gained. As by the out- 



256 GEORGE GRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 

side of an house the passers-by are oftentimes deceived, 
till they see the eonveniency of the rooms within ; so, by 
the very name of discipline and reformation, men were 
drawn at first to cast a fancy towards it, but now they 
have not contented themselves only to pass by and be- 
hold afar off the fore-front of this reformed house ,• they 
have entered in, even at the special request of the master- 
workmen and chief-builders thereof : they have perused 
the rooms, the lights, the conveniences, and they find 
them not answerable to that report which was made of 
them, nor to that opinion which upon report they had 
conceived : so as now the discipline, which at first 
triumphed over all, being unmasked, beginneth to droop, 
and hang down her head. 

The cause of change in opinion concerning the disci- 
pline is proper to the learned, or to such as by them have 
been instructed. Another cause there is more open, and 
more apparent to the view of all, namely, the course of 
practice, which the Reformers have had with us from 
the beginning. The first degree was only some small 
difference about the cap and surplice ; but not such as 
either bred division in the Church, or tended to the ruin 
of the government established. This was peaceable ; 
the next degree more stirring. Admonitions were di- 
rected to the Parliament in peremptory sort against our 
whole form of regiment. In defence of them, volumes 
were published in English and in Latin : yet this was no 
more than writing. Devices were set on foot to erect 
the practice of the discipline without authority; yet 
herein some regard of modesty, some moderation was 
used. Behold at length it brake forth into open out- 
rage, first in writing by Martin ; in whose kind of deal- 
ing these things may be observed : 1. That whereas T. C, 






MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 257 

and others his great masters, had always before set out 
the discipline as a Queen, and as the daughter of God ; 
he contrariwise, to make her more acceptable to the 
people, brought her forth as a Vice upon the stage. 2. 
This conceit of his was grounded — as may be supposed — 
upon this rare policy, that seeing the discipline was by 
writing refuted, in Parliament rejected, in secret corners 
hunted out and decried,it was imagined that by open rail- 
ing, — which to the vulgar is commonly most plausible, — 
the State Ecclesiastical might have been drawn into such 
contempt and hatred, as the overthrow thereof should 
have been most grateful to all men, and in a manner de- 
sired by all the common people. 3. It may be noted 
— and this I know myself to be true — how some of them, 
although they could not for shame approve so lewd an 
action, yet were content to lay hold on it to the advance- 
ment of their cause, by acknowledging therein the secret 
judgments of God against the Bishops, and hoping that 
some good might be wrought thereby for his Church ; 
as indeed there was, though not according to their con- 
struction. For 4thly, contrary to their expectation, that 
railing spirit did not only not further, but extremely 
disgrace and prejudice their cause, when it was once 
perceived from how low degrees of contradiction, at 
first, to what outrage of contumely and slander, they 
were at length proceeded ; and were also likely to pro- 
ceed further. 

A further degree of outrage was also in fact : cer- 
tain * prophets did arise, who deeming it * Hacket and 
not possible that God should suffer that to Coppinger. 
be undone, which they did so fiercely desire to have 
done, namely, that his holy saints, the favourers and 
fathers of the discipline, should be enlarged, and delivered 
m m 



258 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 

from persecution ; and seeing no means of deliverance 
ordinary, were fain to persuade themselves that God 
must needs raise some extraordinary means ; and being 
persuaded of none so well as of themselves, they forth- 
with must needs be the instruments of this great work. 
Hereupon they framed unto themselves an assured hope, 
that, upon their preaching out of a peas-cart in Cheap- 
side, all the multitude would have presently joined unto 
them, and in amazement of mind have asked them, Viri 
fratres, quid agimus ? whereunto it is likely they would 
have returned an answer far unlike to that of St. Peter : 
Such and such are men unworthy to govern ; pluck them 
down : such and such are the dear children of God ; let 
them be advanced. 

Of two of these men it is meet to speak with all com- 
miseration ; yet so, that others by their example may 
receive instruction, and withal some light may appear, 
what stirring affections the discipline is like to inspire, 
if it light upon apt and prepared minds. 

Now if any man doubt of what society they were ; or 
if the Reformers disclaim them, pretending that by them 
they were condemned ; let these points be considered. 
1. Whose associates were they before they entered into 
this frantic passion ? Whose sermons did they frequent ? 
Whom did they admire ? 2. Even when they were enter* 
ing into it, whose advice did they require ? and when they 
were in, Whose approbation? Whom advertised they of their 
purpose ? Whose assistance by prayer did they request ? 
But we deal injuriously with them to lay this to their 
charge; for they reproved and condemned it. How! 
did they disclose it to the Magistrate, that it might be 
suppressed ? or were they not rather content to stand 
aloof off, and see the end of it, as being loath to quench 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 259 

that spirit ? No doubt these mad practitioners were of 
their society, with whom before, and in the practice of 
their madness, they had most affinity. Hereof read Dr. 
Bancroft's book. 

A third inducement may be to dislike of the discipline, 
if we consider not only how far the Reformers themselves 
have proceeded, but what others upon their foundations 
have built. Here come the Brownlsts in the first rank, 
their lineal descendants, who have seized upon a number 
of strange opinions ; whereof, although their ancestors, 
the Reformers, were never actually possessed, yet, by 
right and interest from them derived, the Brownlsts and 
Barrowists have taken possession of them : for if the 
positions of the Reformers be true, I cannot see how the 
main and general conclusions of Brownism should be 
false; for upon these two points, as I conceive, they 
stand. 

1. That, because we have no Church, they are to sever 
themselves from us. 2. That without Civil authority 
they are to erect a Church of their own. And if the 
former of these be true, the latter, I suppose will follow : 
for if above all things men be to regard their salvation ; 
and if out of the Church there be no salvation ; it fol- 
loweth, that, if we have no Church, we have no means 
of salvation ; and therefore separation from us in that 
respect is both lawful and necessary ,• as also, that men, 
so separated from the false and counterfeit Church, are 
to associate themselves unto some Church ; not to ours ; 
to the Popish much less ,• therefore to one of their own 
making. Now the ground of all these inferences being 
this, That in our Church there is no means of salvation, 
is out of the Reformer's principles most clearly to 
be proved. For wheresoever any matter of faith unto 



260 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 

salvation necessary is denied, there can be no means of 
salvation ; but in the Church of England, the discipline, 
by them accounted a matter of faith, and necessary to 
salvation, is not only denied, but impugned, and the 
professors thereof oppressed. Ergo. 

Again, — but this reason perhaps is weak,— every true 
Church of Christ acknowledged the whole Gospel of 
Christ : the discipline, in their opinion, is a part of the 
Gospel, and yet by our Church resisted. Ergo. 

Again, the discipline is essentially united to the Church : 
by which term essentially, they must mean either an es- 
sential part, or an essential property. Both which ways 
it must needs be, that where that essential discipline is 
not, neither is there any Church. If therefore between 
them and the Brownists there should be appointed a so- 
lemn disputation, whereof with us they have been often- 
times so earnest challengers ; it doth not yet appear what 
other answer they could possibly frame to these and the 
like arguments, wherewith they may be pressed, but 
fairly to deny the conclusion, — for all the premises are 
their own — or rather ingeniously to reverse their own 
principles before laid, whereon so foul absurdities have 
been so firmly built. What further proofs you can bring 
out of their high words, magnifying the discipline, I 
leave to your better remembrance : but, above all points, 
I am desirous this one should be strongly enforced against 
them, because it wringeth them most of all, and is of all 
others — for aught I see — the most unanswerable. You 
may notwithstanding say, that you would be heartily glad 
these their positions might be salved, as the Brownists 
might not appear to have issued out of their loins : but 
until that be done, they must give us leave to think that 
they- have cast the seed whereout these tares are grown. 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 2C1 

Another sort of men there are, which have been con- 
tent to run on with the Reformers for a time, and to 
make them poor instruments of their own designs. These 
are a sort of godless politics , who, perceiving the plot of 
discipline to consist of these two parts, the overthrow of 
Episcopal, and erection of Presbyterial authority ; and 
that this latter can take no place till the former be re- 
moved ; are content to join with them in the destructive 
part of discipline, bearing them in hand, that in the 
other also they shall find them as ready. But when time 
shall come, it may be they would be as loath to be yoked 
with that kind of regiment, as now they are willing to be 
released from this. These men's ends in all their actions 
is distraction ; their pretence and colour, reformation. 
' Those things which under this colour they have effected 
to their own good, are, 1. By maintaining a contrary 
faction, they have kept the Clergy always in awe, and 
thereby made them more pliable, and willing to buy 
their peace. 2. By maintaining an opinion of equality 
among Ministers, they have made way to their own pur- 
poses for devouring Cathedral Churches, and Bishop's 
livings. 3. By exclaiming against abuses in the Church, 
they have carried their own corrupt dealings in the Civil 
State more covertly. For such is the nature of the 
multitude, that they are not able to apprehend many 
things at once ; so as being possessed with a dislike or 
liking of any one thing, many other in the mean time 
may escape them without being perceived. 4. They have 
sought to disgrace the Clergy, in entertaining a conceit 
in men's minds, and confirming it by continual practice, 
That men of learning, and specially of the Clergy, which 
are employed in the chief est kind of learning, are not to be 



262 GEORGE CRANMERS LETTER UNTO 

admitted, to matters of State ; contrary to the practice of 
all well-governed commonwealths, and of our own till 
these late years. 

A third sort of men there are, though not descended 
from the Reformers, yet in part raised and greatly 
strengthened by them; namely, the cursed crew of Athe- 
ists. This also is one of those points, which I am desirous 
you should handle most effectually, and strain yourself 
therein to all points of motion and affection ; as in that 
of the Brownists, to all strength and sinews of reason. 
This is a sort most damnable, and yet by the general sus- 
picion of the world at this day most common. The 
causes of it, which are in the parties themselves, although 
you handle in the beginning of the fifth book, yet here 
again they may be touched : but the occasions of help 
and furtherance, which by the Reformers have been 
yielded unto them, are, as I conceive, two; namely, 
senseless preaching, and disgracing of the Ministry : for 
how should not men dare to impugn that, which neither 
by force of reason, nor by authority of persons; is main- 
tained ? But in the parties themselves these two causes I 
conceive of Atheism : 1 . More abundance of wit than 
judgment, and of witty than judicious learning; whereby 
they are more inclined to contradict any thing, than 
willing to be informed of the truth. They are not 
therefore men of sound learning for the most part, 
but smatterers; neither is their kind of dispute so 
much by force of argument, as by scoffing ; which hu- 
mour of scoffing, and turning matters most serious 
into merriment, is now become so common, as we 
are not to marvel what the Prophet means by the seat 
of scorners, nor what the Apostles, by foretelling of 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 263 

scorners to come; for our own age hath verified their 
speech unto us : which also may be an argument against 
these scoffers and Atheists themselves, seeing it hath been 
so many ages ago foretold, that such men the latter days 
of the world should afford : which could not be done by 
any other spirit, save that whereunto things future and 
present are alike. And even for the main question of the 
resurrection, whereat they stick so mightily, was it not 
plainly foretold, that men should in the latter times say, 
Where is the promise of his coming? Against the crea- 
tion, the ark, and divers other points, exceptions are said 
to be taken, the ground whereof is superfluity of wit, 
without ground of learning and judgment. A second 
cause of Atheism is sensuality, which maketh men desi- 
rous to remove all stops and impediments of their wicked 
life ; among which because Religion is the chiefest, so as 
neither in this life without shame they can persist therein, 
nor — if that be true — without torment in the life to 
come ; they therefore whet their wits to annihilate the 
joys of Heaven, wherein they see — if any such be — they 
can have no part, and likewise the pains of Hell, wherein 
their portion must needs be very great. They labour 
therefore, not that they may not deserve those pains, but 
that, deserving them, there may be no such pains to seize 
upon them. But what conceit can be imagined more 
base, than that man should strive to persuade himself 
even against the secret instinct, no doubt, of his own 
mind, that his soul is as the soul of a beast, mortal, and 
corruptible with the body? Against which barbarous 
opinion their own Atheism is a very strong argument. 
For, were not the soul a nature separable from the body, 
how could it enter into discourse of things merely spi- 



264 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 

ritual, and nothing at all pertaining to the body ? Surely 
the soul were not able to conceive any thing of Heaven, 
no not so much as to dispute against Heaven, and against 
God, if there were not in it somewhat heavenly, and de- 
rived from God. 

The last which have received strength and encourage- 
ment from the Reformers are Papists; against whom, al- 
though they are most bitter enemies, yet unwittingly they 
have- given them great advantage. For what can any 
enemy rather desire than the breach and dissention of 
those which are confederates against him? Wherein 
they are to remember, that if our communion with Pa- 
pists in some few ceremonies do so much strengthen 
them, as is pretended, how much more doth this division 
and rent among ourselves, especially seeing it is main- 
tained to be, not in light matters only, but even in mat- 
ters of faith and salvation ? Which over-reaching speech 
of theirs, because it is so open an advantage fortheiter- 
rowist and the Papist, we are to wish and hope for, that 
they will acknowledge it to have been spoken rather in 
heat of affection, than with soundness of judgment; and 
that through their exceeding love to that creature of dis- 
cipline which themselves have bred, nourished, and main- 
tained, their mouth in commendation of her did so often 
overflow. 

From hence you may proceed — but the means of con- 
nection I leave to yourself — to another discourse, which 
I think very meet to be handled either here or elsewhere 
at large; the parts whereof may be these: 1. That in this 
cause between them and us, men are to sever the proper 
and essential points and controversy from those which 
are accidental. The most essential and proper are these 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 265 

two : overthrow of Episcopal, and erection of Presbyte- 
rial authority. But in these two points whosoever join- 
ethwith them, is accounted of their number; whosoever 
in all other points agreeth with them, yet thinketh the 
authority of Bishops not unlawful, and of Elders not ne- 
cessary, may justly be severed from their retinue. Those 
things therefore, which either in the persons, or in the 
laws and orders themselves, are faulty, may be complain- 
ed on, acknowledged, and amended, yet they no whit the 
nearer their main purpose: for what if all errors by them 
supposed in our Liturgy were amended, even according 
to their own hearts desire ; if non-residence, pluralities, 
and the like, were utterly taken away; are their lay -elders 
therefore presently authorised? or their sovereign eccle- 
siastical jurisdiction established ? 

But even in their complaining against the outward and 
accidental matters in Church-government, they are many 
ways faulty, 1. In their end, which they propose to 
themselves. For in declaiming against abuses, their 
meaning is not to have them redressed, but, by disgracing 
the present state, to make way for their own discipline. 
As therefore in Venice, if any Senator should discourse 
against the power of their Senate, as being either too 
sovereign, or too weak in government, with purpose to 
draw their authority to a moderation, it might well be 
suffered; but not so, if it should appear he spake with 
purpose to induce another state by depraving the present. 
So in all causes belonging either to Church or Common- 
wealth, we are to have regard what mind the complain- 
ing part doth bear, whether of amendment or innova- 
tion; and accordingly either to suffer or suppress it. 
Their objection therefore is frivolous, Why, may not men 
speak against abuses ? Yes ; but with desire to cure the 
n n 



266 GEORGE CRANMER'S LETTER UNTO 

part affected, not to destroy the whole. 2. A second fault 
is in their manner of complaining, not only because it is 
for the most part in bitter and reproachful terms, but 
also it is to the common people, who are judges incom- 
petent and insufficient, both to determine any thing amiss, 
and for want of skill and authority to amend it. Which 
also discovereth their intent and purpose to be rather 
destructive than corrective. 3. Those very exceptions 
which they take are frivolous and impertinent. Some 
things indeed they accuse as impious ; which if they may 
appear to be such, God forbid they should be maintained. 
Against the rest it is only alleged, that they are idle 
ceremonies without use, and that better and more pro- 
fitable might be devised. Wherein they are doubly de- 
ceived; for neither is it a sufficient plea to say, this 
must give place, because a better may be devised ; be- 
cause in our judgments of better and worse, we often- 
times conceive amiss, when we compare those things 
which are in devise with those which are in practice : 
for the imperfections of the one are hid, till by time and 
trial they be discovered : the others are already manifest 
and open to all. But last of all, — which is a point in my 
opinion of great regard, and which I am desirous to have 
enlarged, — they do not see that for the most part when 
they strike* at the State Ecclesiastical, they secretly wound 
the Civil State, for personal faults ; What can be said 
against the Church, which may not also agree to the Com- 
monwealth ? In both, Statesmen have always been, and 
mil be always, men ; sometimes blinded with error, most 
commonly perverted by passions : many unworthy have 
been and are advanced in both : many worthy not re- 
garded. And as for abuses, which they pretend to be in 
the laws themselves j when they inveigh against non~ 



MR. RICHARD HOOKER. 267 

residence, do they take it a matter lawful or expedient in 
the Civil State, for a man to have a great and gainful 
office in the North, himself continually remaining in the 
South ? He that hath an office let him attend his office. 
When they condemn plurality of livings spiritual to the 
pit of Hell, what think they of the infinity of temporal 
promotions ? By the great Philosopher, Pol. lib. ii. cap. 
9, it is forbidden as a thing most dangerous to Com- 
monwealths, that by the same man many great offices 
should be exercised. When they deride our ceremonies 
as vain and frivolous, were it hard to apply their excep- 
tions even to those civil ceremonies, which at the Coro- 
nation, in Parliament, and all Courts of Justice, are 
used ? Were it hard to argue even against Circumcision, 
the ordinance of God, as being a cruel ceremony ? against 
the Passover, as being ridiculous — shod, girt, a staff in 
their hand, to eat a lamb ? 

To conclude : you may exhort the Clergy,— or what 
if you direct your conclusion not to the Clergy in general, 
but only to the learned in or of both Universities ? — you 
may exhort them to a due consideration of all things, 
and to a right esteem and valuing of each thing in that 
degree wherein it ought to stand. For it oftentimes 
falleth out, that what men have either devised themselves, 
or greatly delighted in, the price and the excellency 
thereof they do admire above desert. The chiefest labour 
of a Christian should be to know, of a Minister to 
preach, Christ crucified: in regard whereof, not only 
worldly things, but things otherwise precious, even the 
discipline itself is vile and base. Whereas now, by the 
heat of contention, and violence of affection, the zeal of 
men towards the one hath greatly decayed their love to 



268 GEORGE CRANMER S LETTER, &c. 

the other. Hereunto therefore they are to be exhorted 
to preach Christ Crucified, the mortification of the flesh, 
the renewing of the Spirit; not those things which in 
time of strife seem precious, but — passions being allayed 
— are vain and childish. 

G. C. 





Enrfravei iy A_"W "Warren.. 



rE©»I H5EMB3S3&T 



LOKD ON. 

Published, iy Join Major, &0. Fleet Street, 

MavI5 & 1S2£. 



THE LIFE 



OF 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT, 



PREBENDARY OF SALISBURY CATHEDRAL. 




LONDON: 

JOHN MAJOR, 

MDCCCXXV. 



INTRODUCTION 

TO 

THE LIFE 

OF 

GEORGE HERBERT. 

In a late retreat from the business of this world, and 
those many little cares with Avhich I have too often 
cumbered myself, I fell into a contemplation of some of 
those historical passages that are recorded in Sacred Story : 
and more particularly of what had passed betwixt our 
blessed Saviour, and that wonder of Women, and Sinners, 
and Mourners, Saint Mary Magdalen. I call her Saint, 
because I did not then, nor do now consider her, as when 
slie was possessed with seven devils ; not as when her wan- 
ton eyes and dishevelled hair, were designed and managed 
to charm and ensnare amorous beholders. But I did then, 
and do now consider her, as after she had expressed a vi- 
sible and sacred sorrow for her sensualities ; as after 
those eyes had wept such a flood of penitential tears as 
did wash, and that hair had wiped, and she most pas- 
sionately kissed the feet of her's and our blessed Jesus. 
And I do now consider, that because she loved much, not 
only much was forgiven her; but that beside that bless- 
ing of having her sins pardoned, and the joy of knowing 
her happy condition, she also had from him a testimony, 
that her alabaster box of precious ointment poured on his 
headandfeet, and that spikenard, and those spices that were 
by her dedicated to embalm and preserve his sacred body 
to putrefaction, should so far preserve her own memory, 
that these demonstrations of her sanctioned love, and of 



INTRODUCTION. 

her officious and generous gratitude, should be recorded 
and mentioned wheresoever his Gospel should be read ; 
intending thereby, that as his, so her name should also 
live to succeeding generations, even till time itself shall 
be no more. 

Upon occasion of which fair example, I did lately look 
back, and not without some content, — at least to myself, — 
that I have endeavoured to deserve the love, and preserve 
the memory, of my two deceased friends, Dr. Bonne, and 
Sir Henry Wotton, by declaring the several employments 
and various accidents of their lives. And though Mr. 
George Herbert — whose Life I now intend to write — 
were to me a stranger as to his person, for I have only 
seen him ; yet since he was, and was worthy to be, their 
friend, and very many of his have been mine, I judge it 
may not be unacceptable to those that knew any of them 
in their lives, or do now know them by mine, or their own 
writings, to see this conjunction of them after their 
deaths; without which, many things that concerned 
them, and some things that concerned the age in which 
they lived, would be less perfect, and lost to posterity. 
For these reasons I have undertaken it ; and if I have pre- 
vented any abler person, I beg pardon of him and my 
Reader. 





THE LIFE 

OF 

MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 




eorge Herbert was born the 
Third day of April, in the Year 
of our Redemption 1593. The 
place of his birth was near to 
the Town of Montgomery, and 
in that Castle that did then bear 
the name of that Town and 
County : that Castle was then a 
place of state and strength, and had been succes- 
sively happy in the Family of the Herberts, who had 
long possessed it ; and with it, a plentiful estate, 
and hearts as liberal to their poor neighbours. A 
family, that hath been blessed with men of remarkable 
wisdom, and a willingness to serve their country, 
and, indeed, to do good to all mankind j for which 
o o 



274 THE LIFE OP 

they are eminent : But alas ! this family did in the 
late rebellion suffer extremely in their estates j and 
the heirs of that Castle saw it laid level with tlvat 
earth, that was too good to bury those wretches that 
were the cause of it. 

The Father of our George was Richard Herbert, 
the son of Edward Herbert, Knight, the son of 
Richard Herbert, Knight, the son of the famous Sir 
Richard Herbert of Colebrook, in the County of Mon- 
mouth, Banneret, who was the youngest brother of 
that memorable William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, 
that lived in the reign of our King Edward the 
Fourth. 

His Mother was Magdalen Newport, the youngest 
daughter of Sir Richard, and sister to Sir Francis 
Newport of High-Arkall, in the County of Salop, 
Knight, and grandfather of Francis Lord Newport, 
now Controller of his Majesty's Household. A 
family, that for their loyalty have suffered much in 
their estates, and seen the ruin of that excellent 
structure, where their ancestors have long lived, 
and been memorable for their hospitality. 

The Mother of George Herbert — of whose person, 
and wisdom, and virtue, I intend to give a true 
account in a seasonable place — was the happy 
mother of seven sons and three daughters, which 
she would often say was Job's number, and Job's dis- 
tribution; and as often bless God, that they were 
neither defective in their shapes, or in their reason : 
and very often reprove them that did not praise 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 275 

God for so great a blessing. I shall give the Reader 
a short account of their names, and not say much 
of their fortunes. 

Edward, the eldest, was first made Knight of the 
Bath, at that glorious time of our late Prince Henry's 
being installed Knight of the Garter ; and after 
many years useful travel, and the attainment of 
many languages, he was by King James sent Am- 
bassador resident to the then French King, Lewis 
the Thirteenth. There he continued about two 
years j but he could not subject himself to a com- 
pliance with the humours of the Duke de Luisnes, 
who was then the great and powerful favourite at 
Court : so that upon a complaint to our King, he 
was called back into England in some displeasure 5 
but at his return he gave such an honourable ac- 
count of his employment, and so justified his com- 
portment to the Ihike and all the Court, that he 
was suddenly sent back upon the same Embassy, 
from which he returned in the beginning of the 
reign of our good King Charles the First, who made 
him first Baron of Castle- Island, and not long after 
of Cherbury in the County of Salop. He was a man 
of great learning and reason, as appears by his printed 
book De Veritate, and by his History of the reign of 
King Henry the Eighth, and by several other tracts. 

The second and third brothers were Richard and 
William, who ventured their lives to purchase ho- 
nour in the wars of the Low Countries, and died 
officers in that employment. Charles was the fourth, 



9.76 THE LIFE OF 

and died fellow of New College in Oxford. Henry 
was the sixth, who became a menial servant to the 
Crown in the days of King James, and hath con- 
tinued to be so for fifty years ; during all which 
time he hath been Master of the Revels ; a place 
that requires a diligent wisdom, with which God 
hath blessed him. The seventh son was Thomas, 
who, being made Captain of a ship in that fleet with 
which Sir Robert Mansell was sent against Algiers, 
did there shew a fortunate and true English valour. 
Of the three sisters I need not say more, than that 
they were all married to persons of worth, and plen- 
tiful fortunes , and lived to be examples of virtue, 
and to do good in their generations. 

I now come to give my intended account of 
George, who was the fifth of those seven brothers. 
George Herbert spent much of his childhood in 
a sweet content under the eye and care of his pru- 
dent Mother, and the tuition of a Chaplain, or tutor 
to him and two of his brothers, in her own family, — - 
for she was then a widow, — where he continued till 
about the age of twelve years 5 and being at that 
time well instructed in the rules of Grammar, he 
was not long after commended to the care of Dr. 
Neale, who was then Dean of Westminster ; and by 
him to the care of Mr. Ireland, who was then Chief 
Master of that School ; where the beauties of his 
pretty behaviour and wit shined and became so 
eminent and lovely in this his innocent age, that he 
seemed to be marked out for piety, and to become 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 277 

the care of Heaven, and of a particular good angel 
to guard and guide him. And thus he continued in 
that School, till he came to be perfect in the learned 
languages, and especially in the Greek tongue, in 
which he after proved an excellent critic. 

About the age of fifteen — he being then a King's 
Scholar — he was elected out of that School for Tri- 
nity College in Cambridge, to which place he was 
transplanted about the year 1608 ; and his prudent 
Mother, well knowing that he might easily lose or 
lessen that virtue and innocence, which her advice 
and example had planted in his mind, did therefore 
procure the generous and liberal Dr. Nevil, who 
was then Dean of Canterbury, and Master of that 
College, to take him into his particular care, and 
provide him a Tutor ; which he did most gladly un- 
dertake, for he knew the excellencies of his mother, 
and how to value such a friendship. 

This was the method of his education, till he was 
settled in Cambridge ; where we will leave him in 
his study, till I have paid my promised account of 
his excellent Mother ; and I will endeavour to 
make it short. 

I have told her birth, her marriage, and the 
number of her children, and have given some short 
account of them. I shall next tell the Reader, that 
her husband died when our George was about the 
age of four years : I am next to tell, that she con- 
tinued twelve years a widow 3 that she then married 
happily to a noble gentleman, the brother and heir 



9,78 THE LIFE OF 

of the Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby, who did highly 
value both her person and the most excellent en- 
dowments of her mind. 

In this time of her widowhood, she being de- 
sirous to give Edward, her eldest son, such advan- 
tages of learning, and other education, as might 
suit his birth and fortune, and thereby make him 
the more fit for the service of his country, did, at 
his being of a fit age, remove from Montgomery 
Castle with him, and some of her younger sons, to 
Oxford; and having entered Edward into Queen's 
College, and provided him a fit Tutor, she commen- 
ded him to his care : yet she continued there with 
him, and still kept him in a moderate awe of herself, 
and so much under her own eye, as to see and con- 
verse with him daily : but she managed this power 
over him without any such rigid sourness, as might 
make her company a torment to her child) but 
with such a sweetness and compliance with the re- 
creations and pleasures of youth, as did incline him 
willingly to spend much of his time in the company 
of his dear and careful mother ; which was to her 
great content : for she would often say, " That as 
" our bodies take a nourishment suitable to the 
" meat on which we feed j so our souls do as in- 
" sensibly take in vice by the example or conversa- 
tion with wicked company:" and Avould there- 
fore as often say, " That ignorance of vice was the 
" best preservation of virtue - } and that the very 
" knowledge of wickedness was as tinder to inflame 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 279 

(( and kindle sin, and to keep it burning." For 
these reasons she endeared him to her own com- 
pany, and continued with him in Oxford four years ; 
in which time her great and harmless wit, her cheerful 
gravity, and her obliging behaviour, gained her an ac- 
quaintance and friendship with most of any eminent 
worth or learning, that were at that time in or near 
that University ; and particularly with Mr. John 
Donne, who then came accidentally to that place, 
in this time of her being there. It was that John 
Donne j who was after Dr. Donne, and Dean of 
Saint Paul's, London : and he, at his leaving Oxford, 
writ and left there, in verse, a character of the 
beauties of her body and mind : of the first he says, 

No Spring nor Summer-beauty has such grace, 
As I have seen in an Autumnal face, 

Of the latter he says, 

In all her words to every hearer fit, 
You may at revels, or at council sit. 

The rest of her character may be read in his 
printed poems, in that Elegy which bears the name 
of The Autumnal Beauty. For both he and she were 
then past the meridian of man's life. 

This amity, begun at this time and place, was not 
an amity that polluted their souls ; but an amity 
made up of a chain of suitable inclinations and 
virtues - } an amity like that of St, Chrysostoms to his 



280 THE LIFE OF 

dear and virtuous Olympias ; whom, in his letters, 
he calls his Saint: or an amity, indeed, more like 
that of St. Hierome to his Paula ; whose affection to 
her was such, that he turned poet in his old age, 
and then made her epitaph : wishing all his body 
were turned into tongues, that he might declare her just 
praises to posterity. And this amity betwixt her and 
Mr. Donne was begun in a happy time for him, he 
being then near to the fortieth year of his age, — 
which was some years before he entered into Sa- 
cred Orders • — a time, when his necessities needed 
a daily supply for the support of his wife, seven 
children, and a family. And in this time she proved 
one of his most bountiful benefactors j and he as 
grateful an acknowledger of it. You may take one 
testimony for what I have said of these two worthy 
persons, from this following Letter and Sonnet. 

" Madam, 

" Your favours to me are every where -, I use 
" them, and have them. I enjoy them at London, 
" and leave them there -, and yet find them at Mit- 
" cham. Such riddles as these become things inex- 
" pressible ; and such is your goodness. I was 
■' almost sorry to find your servant here this day, 
" because I was loath to have any witness of my 
" not coming home last night, and indeed of my 
" coming this morning. But my not coming was 
" excusable, because earnest business detained me ; 
" and my coming this day is by the example of your 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 281 

<( St. Mary Magdalen, who rose early upon Sunday, 
" to seek that which she loved most j and so did 
" I. And, from her and myself, I return such 
" thanks as are due to one, to whom we owe all 
" the good opinion,, that they, whom we need most, 
" have of us. By this messenger, and on this good 
" day, I commit the inclosed holy Hymns and Son- 
<e nets — which for the matter, not the workmanship, 
" have yet escaped the fire — to your judgment, 
" and to your protection too, if you think them 
" worthy of it ; and I have appointed to this in- 
" closed Sonnet to usher them to your happy hand. 
Your unworthiest servant, 
Unless your accepting him to be so 
have mended him, 
Mitcham, July 11, 1607. Jo. Donne. 



To the Lady Magdalen Herbert : Of St. Mary 
Magdalen. 

Her of your name, whose fair inheritance 

Bethina was, and jointure Magdalo, 
An active faith so highly did advance, 

That she once knew more than the Church did know, 
The Resurrection ! so much good there is 

Delivered of her, that some Fathers be 
Loth to believe one woman could do this ; 

But think these Magdalens were two or three. 
pp 



282 THE LIFE OF 

Increase their number Lady, and their fame : 

To their devotion add your innocence : 
Take so much of tK example, as of the name ; 

The latter half; and in some recompense 
That they did harbour Christ himself a guest, 

Harbour these Hymns, to his dear name addrest. 

J. IX 

These Hymns are now lost to us ; but doubtless 
they were such, as they two now sing in, Heaven. 

There might be more demonstrations of the 
friendship, and the many sacred endearments be- 
twixt these two excellent persons, — for I have many 
of their letters in my hand, — and much more might 
be said of her great prudence and piety : but my 
design was not to write her's, but the life of her 
son 5 and therefore I shall only tell my Reader, that 
about that very day twenty years that this letter 
was dated, and sent her, I saw and heard this Mr. 
John Donne — who was then Dean of St. Paul's — 
weep, and preach her Funeral Sermon, in the Parish- 
Church of Chelsea, near London, where she now 
rests in her quiet grave 5 and where we must now 
leave her, and return to her son George, whom we 
left in his study in Cambridge. 

And in Cambridge we may find our George Her- 
bert's behaviour to be such, that we may conclude 
he consecrated the first-fruits of his early age to 
virtue, and a serious study of learning. And that 
he did so, this following Letter and Sonnet, which 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 283 

were, in the first year of his going to Cambridge, 
sent his dear Mother for a New-year's gift, may 
appear to be some testimony. 

— " But I fear the heat of my late ague hath 
u dried up those springs, by which scholars say the 
ee Muses use to take up their habitations. However, 
" I need not their help to reprove the vanity of 
" those many love-poems, that are daily writ, and 
" consecrated to Venus; nor to bewail that so few 
" are writ, that look towards God and Heaven, 
" For my own part, my meaning — dear Mother — is, 
" in these Sonnets, to declare my resolution to be, 
" that my poor abilities in Poetry, shall be all and 
" ever consecrated to God's glory : and I beg you 
" to receive this as one testimony." 

My God, where is that ancient heat towards thee, 
Wherewith whole shoals of Martyrs once did burn, 
Besides their other flames ? Doth Poetry 

Wear Venus' livery ? only serve her turn ? 

Why are not Sonnets made of thee ? and lays 
Upon thine altar burnt ? Cannot thy love 
Heighten a spirit to sound out thy praise 

As well as any she ? Cannot thy Dove 

Outstrip their Cupid easily inflight ? 

Or, since thy ways are deep, and still the same, 
Will not a verse run smooth that bears thy name ? 

Why doth that fire, which by thy power and might 
Each breast does feel, no braver fuel choose 
Than that, which one day, worms may chance refuse ? 



284 THE LIFE OF 

Sure) Lord, there is enough in thee to dry 

Oceans of ink ; for as the Deluge did 

Cover the Earth, so doth thy Majesty ,• 
Each cloud distils thy praise, and doth forbid 
Poets to turn it to another use. 

Roses and lilies speak Thee; and to make 

A pair of cheeks of them, is thy abuse. 
Why should I women's eyes for crystal take ? 
Such poor invention burns in their low mind 

Whose fire is wild, and doth not upward go 

To praise, and on thee, Lord, some ink bestow. 
Open the bones, and you shall nothing find 

In the best face but filth $ when Lord, in Thee 

The beauty lies, in the discovery. 

G.R 

This was his resolution at the sending this letter 
to his dear Mother, about which time he was in 
the seventeenth year of his age j and as he grew 
older, so he grew in learning, and more and more 
in favour both with God and man : insomuch that, 
in this morning of that short day of his life, he 
seemed to be marked out for virtue, and to become 
the care of Heaven 3 for God still kept his soul in 
so holy a frame, that he may, and ought to be a pat- 
tern of virtue to all posterity, and especially to his 
brethren of the Clergy, of which the Reader may- 
expect a more exact account in what will follow. 

I need not declare that he was a strict student, 
because, that he was so, there will be many testi- 
monies in the future part of his life. I shall there- 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 285 

fore only tell, that he was made Bachelor of Arts in 
the year 1611 5 Major Fellow of the College , March 
15th, 1615 : and, that in that year he was also made 
Master of Arts, he being then in the 22d year of his 
age 5, during all which time, all, or the greatest 
diversion from his study, was the practice of Music, 
in which he became a great master ; and of which 
he would say, That it did relieve his drooping spirits, 
compose his distracted thoughts, and raised his weary 
soul so far above earth, that it gave him an earnest of 
the joys of Heaven, before he possessed them. And it 
may be noted, that from his first entrance into the 
College, the generous Dr. Nevil was a cherisher of 
his studies, and such a lover of his person, his be- 
haviour, and the excellent endowments of his mind, 
that he took him often into his own company ; by 
which he confirmed his native gentleness : and if 
during his time he expressed any error, it was, that 
he kept himself too much retired, and at too great 
a distance with all his inferiors ; and his clothes 
seemed to prove, that he put too great a value on 
his parts and parentage. 

This may be some account of his disposition, and 
of the employment of his time, till he was Master 
of Arts, which was Anno 1615, and in the year 1619 
he was chosen Orator for the University. His two 
precedent Orators were Sir Robert Naunton, and Sir 
Francis Nethersole. The first was not long after 
made Secretary of State 3 and Sir Francis, not very 
long after his being Orator, was made Secretary to 
the Lady Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia. In this 



286 THE LIFE OF 

place of Orator our George Herbert continued eight 
years ; and managed it with as becoming and grave 
a gaiety, as any had ever before or since his time. 
For, he had acquired great learning, and was blessed 
with a high fancy, a civil and sharp wit, and with a 
natural elegance, both in his behaviour, his tongue, and 
his pen. Of all which there might be very many 
particular evidences ; but I will limit myself to the 
mention of but three. 

And the first notable occasion of shewing his fit- 
ness for this employment of Orator was manifested 
in a letter to King James, upon the occasion of his 
sending that University his book called Basilicon 
Doron ; and their Orator was to acknowledge this 
great honour, and return their gratitude to his 
Majesty for such a condescension j at the close of 
which letter he writ, 

Quid Vaticanam Bodleianamque objicis hospes ! 
Unicus est nobis Bibliotheca Liber. 

This letter was writ in such excellent Latin, was 
so full of conceits, and all the expressions so suited 
to the genius of the King, that he enquired the Ora- 
tor's name, and then asked William Earl of Pem- 
broke, if he knew him ? whose answer was That he 
knew him very well, and that he was his kinsman ■ but 
he loved him more for his learning and virtue, than for 
that he was of his name and family. At which answer 
the King smiled, and asked the Earl leave that he 
might love him too, for he took him to be the jewel of 
that University, 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 287 

The next occasion he had and took to shew his 
great abilities, was, with them, to shew also his 
great affection to that Church in which he received 
his baptism, and of which he professed himself a 
member ; and the occasion was this : There was 
one Andrew Melvin, a Minister of the Scotch Church, 
and Rector of St. Andrew's ; who, by a long and 
constant converse with a discontented part of that 
Clergy which opposed Episcopacy, became at last 
to be a chief leader of that faction ; and had proudly 
appeared to be so %p King James, when he was but 
King of that nation, who, the second year after his 
Coronation in England, convened a part of the 
Bishops, and other learned Divines of his Church, 
to attend him at Hampton- Court, in order to a 
friendly conference with some dissenting brethren, 
both of this and the Church of Scotland : of which 
Scotch party Andrew Melvin was one 5 and he being 
a man of learning, and inclined to satirical poetry, 
had scattered many malicious, bitter verses against 
our Liturgy, our ceremonies, and our Church- govern- 
ment ; which were by some of that party so mag- 
nified for the wit, that they were therefore brought 
into Westminster School, where Mr. George Herbert, 
then, and often after, made such answers to them, 
and such reflections on him and his Kirk, as might 
unbeguile any man that was not too deeply pre-en- 
gaged in such a quarrel. — But to return to Mr. 
Melvin at Hampton-Court Conference; he there ap- 
peared to be a man of an unruly wit, of a strange 
confidence, of so furious a zeal, and of so ungoverned 



288 THE LIFE OF 

passions, that his insolence to the King, and others 
at this Conference, lost him both his Rectorship of 
St. Andrew's and his liberty too j for his former 
verses, and his present reproaches there used against 
the Church and State, caused him to be committed 
prisoner to the Tower of London ; where he re- 
mained very angry for three years. At which time 
of his commitment, he found the Lady Arabella an 
innocent prisoner there ; and he pleased himself 
much in sending, the next day after his commit- 
ment, these two verses to the good lady 5 which I 
will underwrite, because they may give the Reader 
a taste of his others, which were like these. 

Causa tibi mecum est communis, carceris, Ara- 
Bella, tibi causa est, Araque sacra mihi. 

I shall not trouble my Reader with an account of 
his enlargement from that prison, or his death; 
but tell him Mr. Herbert's verses were thought so 
worthy to be preserved, that Dr. Duport, the learned 
Dean of Peterborough, hath lately collected and 
caused many of them to be printed, as an honour- 
able memorial Of his friend Mr. George Herbert, and 
the cause he undertook. 

And in order to my third and last observation of 
his great abilities, it will be needful to declare, 
that about this time King James came very often to 
hunt at Newmarket and Royston, and was almost as 
often invited to Cambridge, where his entertainment 
was comedies suited to his pleasant humour; and 
where Mr. George Herbert was to welcome him 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 289 

with gratulations, and the applauses of an Orator ; 
which he always performed so well, that he still 
grew more into the King's favour, insomuch that 
he had a particular appointment to attend his Ma- 
jesty at Royston ; where, after a discourse with him, 
his Majesty declared to his kinsman, the Earl of 
Pembroke, that he found the Orator s learning and wis- 
dom much above his age or wit. The year following, 
the King appointed to end his progress at Cambridge, 
and to stay there certain days ; at which time he 
was attended by the great Secretary of Nature and 
^11 learning, Sir Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, and 
by the ever-memorable and learned Dr. Andrews, 




Bishop of Winchester, both which did at that time 
begin a desired friendship with our Orator. Upon 
whom, the first put such a value on his judgment, 
that he usually desired his approbation before he 



290 THE LIFE OF 

would expose any of his books to be printed ; and 
thought him so worthy of his friendship, that hav- 
ing translated many of the Prophet David's Psalms 
into English verse, he made George Herbert his 
patron, by a public dedication of them to him, as 
the best judge of Divine Poetry. And for the 
learned Bishop, it is observable, that at that time 
there fell to be a modest debate betwixt them two 
about Predestination, and Sanctity of life ; of both 
which the Orator did, not long after, send the Bishop 
some safe and useful aphorisms, in a long letter, 
written in Greek -, which letter was so remarkable 
for the language and reason of it, that, after the 
reading it, the Bishop put it into his bosom, and 
did often shew it to many Scholars, both of this 
and foreign nations ; but did always return it back 
to the place where he first lodged it, and continued 
it so near his heart till the last day of his life. 

To these I might add the long and entire friend- 
ship betwixt him and Sir Henry Wotton, and Dr. 
Donne; but I have promised to contract myself, 
and shall therefore only add one testimony to what 
is also mentioned in the Life of Dr. Donne ; namely, 
that a little before his death he caused many Seals 
to be made, and in them to be engraven the figure 
of Christ crucified on an Anchor, — the emblem of 
Hope, — and of which Dr. Donne would often say, 
Crux mihi anchora. — These Seals he gave or sent to 
most of those friends on which he put a value ; 
and, at Mr. Herbert's death, these verses were found 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 291 

wrapt up with that seal, which was by the Doctor 
given to him j 

When my dear friend could write no more, 
He gave this Seal, and so gave o'er. 

When winds and waves rise highest I am sure. 
This Anchor keeps my faith, that, me secure. 

At this time of being Orator, he had learned to 
understand the Italian, Spanish, and French tongues 
very perfectly j hoping, that as his predecessors, so 
he might in time attain the place of a Secretary of 
State, he being at that time very high in the King's 
favour, and not meanly valued and loved by the 
most eminent and most powerful of the Court No- 
bility. This, and the love of a Court-conversation, 
mixed with a laudable ambition to be something 
more than he then was, drew him often from Cam- 
bridge, to attend the King wheresoever the Court 
was, who then gave him a sinecure, which fell into 
his Majesty's disposal, I think, by the death of the 
Bishop of St. Asaph. It was the same that Queen 
Elizabeth had formerly given to her favourite, Sir 
Philip Sidney, and valued to be worth an hundred 
and twenty pounds per annum. With this, and his 
annuity, and the advantage of his College, and of 
his Oratorship, he enjoyed his genteel humour for 
clothes, and Court-like company, and seldom looked 
towards Cambridge, unless the King were there, 



292 THE LIFE OF 

but then he never failed ; and, at other times, left 
the manage of his Orator s place to his learned 
friend, Mr. Herbert Thorndike, who is now Prebend 
of Westminster. 

I may not omit to tell, that he had often designed 
to leave the University, and decline all study, which 
he thought did impair his healthy for he had a 
body apt to a consumption, and to fevers, and other 
infirmities, which he judged were increased by 
his studies 3 for he would often say, He had too 
thoughtful a wit ; a wit, like a penknife in too narrow 
a sheath, too sharp for his body. But his Mother 
would by no means allow him to leave the Univer- 
sity,, or to travel j and though he inclined very 
much to both, yet he would by no means satisfy his 
own desires at so dear a rate, as to prove an un- 
dutiful son to so affectionate a Mother; but did 
always submit to her wisdom. And what I have 
now said may partly appear in a copy of verses in 
his printed poems 5 'tis one of those that bear the 
title of Affliction ; and it appears to be a pious reflec- 
tion on God's providence, and some passages of his 
life, in which he says, 

Whereas my birth and spirit rather took 

The way that takes the town ; 
Thou didst betray me to a lingering book. 

And wrapt me in a gown : 
I was entangled in a world of strife, 
Before I had the power to change my life* 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 293 

Yet, for I threaten d oft the siege to raise, 

Not simpering all mine age ; 
Thou often didst with academic praise 

Melt and dissolve my rage : 
I took the sweeten 'd pill, till I came where 
I could not go away, nor persevere. 

Yet, lest perchance I should too happy be 

In my unhappiness, 
Turning my purge to food, thou throwest me 

Into more sicknesses. 
Thus doth thy power cross-bias me, not making 
Thine own gifts good, yet me from my ways taking. 

Now I am here, what thou wilt do with me 

None of my books will show. 
I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree, 

For then sure I should grow 
To fruit or shade, at least some bird would trust 
Her household with me, and I would be just. 

Yet, though thou troublest me, I must be meek, 

In weakness must be stout. 
Well, I will change my service, and go seek 

Some other master out : 
Ah, my dear God ! though I am clean forgot. 
Let me not leave thee, if 1 love thee not. 

G. H. 

In this time of Mr. Herbert's attendance and ex- 
pectation of some good occasion to remove from 



294 THE LIFE OF 

Cambridge to Court, God, in whom there is an un- 
seen chain of causes, did in a short time put an end 
to the lives of two of his most obliging and most 
powerful friends, Lodowick Duke of Richmond, and 
James Marquis of Hamilton -, and not long after him 
King James died also, and with them, all Mr. Her- 
bert's Court-hopes : so that he presently betook 
himself to a retreat from London, to a friend in Kent, 
where he lived very privately, and was such a lover 
of solitariness, as was judged to impair his health, 
more than his study had done. In this time of 
retirement, he had many conflicts with himself, whe- 
ther he should return to the painted pleasures of a 
Court-life, or betake himself to a study of Divinity, 
and enter into Sacred Orders, to which his dear 
mother had often persuaded him. These were such 
conflicts, as they only can know, that have endured 
them 5 for ambitious desires, and the outward glory 
of this world, are not easily laid aside : but at last 
God inclined him to put on a resolution to serve at 
his altar. 

He did, at his return to London, acquaint a Court- 
friend with his resolution to enter into Sacred 
Orders, who persuaded him to alter it, as too mean 
an employment, and too much below his birth, and 
the excellent abilities and endowments of his mind. 
To whom he replied, It hath been formerly judged 
that the domestic servants of the King of Heaven should 
be of the noblest families on earth. And though the 
iniquity of the late times have made clergymen meanly 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 295 

valued, and the sacred name of priest contemptible ; yet 
I will labour to make it honourable, by consecrating all 
my learning, and all my poor abilities to advance the 
glory of that God that gave them -, knowing that I can 
never do too much for him, that hath done so much for 
me, as to make me a Christian. And I will labour to 
be like my Saviour, by making humility lovely in the 
eyes of all men, and by following the merciful and meek 
example of my dear Jesus. 

This was then his resolution; and the God of 
constancy, who intended him for a great example 
of virtue, continued him in it, for within that year 
he was made Deacon, but the day when, or by 
whom, I cannot learn : but that he was about that 
time then made Deacon, is most certain ; for I find 
by the Records of Lincoln, that he was made Pre- 
bend of Layton Ecclesia, in the Diocese of Lincoln, 
July 15th 1626, and that this Prebend was given him 
by John, then Lord Bishop of that See. And now 
he had a fit occasion to shew that piety and bounty 
that was derived from his generous mother, and his 
other memorable ancestors, and the occasion was 
this. 

This Layton Ecclesia is a village near to Spalden, 
in the County of Huntingdon, and the greatest part 
of the Parish- Church was fallen down, and that of 
it which stood was so decayed, so little, and so use- 
less, that the parishioners could not meet to per- 
form their duty to God in public prayer and praises ; 
and thus it had been for almost twenty years, in 



296 THE LIFE OF 

which time there had been some faint endeavours 
for a public collection, to enable the parishioners to 
rebuild it ; but with no success, till Mr. Herbert 
undertook it - } and he, by his own, and the contribu- 
tion of many of his kindred, and other noble friends, 
undertook the re-edification of it ; and made it so 
much his whole business, that he became restless 
till he saw it finished as it now stands j being for 
the workmanship, a costly Mosaic ; for the form, 
an exact cross ; and for the decency and beauty, I 
am assured, it is the most remarkable Parish- Church 
that this nation affords. He lived to see it so wain- 
scotted, as to be exceeded by none ; and, by his 
order, the Reading-pew and Pulpit were a little 
distant from each other, and both of an equal height ; 
for he would often say, They should neither have a 
precedency or priority of the other ; but that Prayer and 
Preaching, being equally useful, might agree like bre- 
thren, and have an equal honour and estimation. 

Before I proceed farther, I must look back to the 
time of Mr. Herbert's being made Prebend, and tell 
the Reader, that not long after, his Mother being 
informed of his intentions to rebuild that Church, 
and apprehending the great trouble and charge that 
he was like to draw upon himself, his relations and 
friends, before it could be finished, sent for him 
from London to Chelsea, — where she then dwelt, — 
and at his coming, said, George, I sent for you, to 
persuade you to commit Simony, by giving your patron 
as good a gift as he has given to you; namely, that you 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 297 

give him back his prebend ; for, George, it is not for 
your weak body, and empty purse, to undertake to build 
Churches. Of which, he desired he might have a 
day's time to consider, and then make her an 
answer. And at his return to her the next day, 
when he had first desired her blessing, and she 
given it him, his next request was, That she would, 
at the age of thirty-three years, allow him to become an 
un dutiful son ,• for he had made a vow to God, that, if 
he were able, he would rebuild that Church. And then 
shewed her such reasons for his resolution, that she 
presently subscribed to be one of his benefactors ; 
and undertook to solicit William Earl of Pembroke 
to become another, who subscribed for fifty pounds j 
and not long after, by a witty and persuasive letter 
from Mr. Herbert, made it fifty pounds more. And 
in this nomination of some of his benefactors, James 
Duke of Lenox, and his brother, Sir Henry Herbert, 
ought to be remembered $ as also the bounty of 
Mr. Nicholas Farrer, and Mr. Arthur Woodnot ,• the 
one a gentleman in the neighbourhood of Layton, 
and the other a Goldsmith in Foster Lane, London, 
ought not to be forgotten : for the memory of such 
men ought to outlive their lives. Of Mr. Farrer, 
I shall hereafter give an account in a more season- 
able place 3 but before I proceed farther, I will 
give this short account of Mr. Arthur Woodnot. 

He was a man, that had considered overgrown 
estates do often require more care and watchfulness 
r r 



298 THE LIFE OF 

to preserve than get them, and considered that there 
be many discontents, that riches cure not j and did 
therefore set limits to himself, as to desire of wealth. 
And having attained so much as to be able to shew 
some mercy to the poor, and preserve a competence 
for himself, he dedicated the remaining part of his 
life to the service of God, and to be useful to his 
friends ; and he proved to be so to Mr. Herbert; 
for beside his own bounty, he collected and returned 
most of the money that was paid for the rebuilding 
of that Church 3 he kept all the account of the 
charges, and would often go down to state them, 
and see all the workmen paid. When I have said, 
that this good man was a useful friend to Mr. 
Herbert's father, and to his mother, and continued 
to be so to him, till he closed his eyes on his death- 
bed 3 I will forbear to say more, till I have the next 
fair occasion to mention the holy friendship that 
was betwixt him and Mr. Herbert. From whom 
Mr. Woodnot carried to his mother this following 
letter, and delivered it to her in a sickness, which 
was not long before that which proved to be her 
last. 



A Letter of Mr. George Herbert to his Mother ■, 
in her Sickness. 

MADAM, 

At my last parting from you, I was the better con- 
tent, because I was in hope I should myself carry all 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT, 299 

sickness out of your family : but since I know I did not, 
and that your share continues, or rather increaseth, I 
wish earnestly that I were again with you ; and would 
quickly make good my wish, but that my employment 
does fix me here, it being now but a month to our Com- 
mencement : wherein my absence, by how much it 
naturally augmenteth suspicion, by so much shall it 
make my prayers the more constant and the more earnest 
for you to the God of all consolation. — In the mean 
time, I beseech you to be cheerful, and comfort yourself 
in the God of all comfort, who is not willing to behold 
any sorrow but for sin. — What hath affliction grievous 
in it more than for a moment ? or why should our 
afflictions here, have so much power or boldness as to op- 
pose the hope of our joys hereafter ? — Madam, as the 
earth is but a point in respect of the heavens, so are 
earthly troubles compared to heavenly joys : therefore, 
if either age or sickness lead you to those joys, consider 
what advantage you have over youth and health, who 
are novj so near those true comforts. Your last letter 
gave me earthly preferment, and I hope kept heavenly 
for yourself: but would you divide and choose too P Our 
College customs allow not that : and I should account 
myself most happy, if I might change with you -, for I 
have always observed the thread of life to be like other 
threads or skeins of silk, full ofsnarles and incumbrances. 
Happy is he, whose bottom is wound up, and laid ready 
for work in the New Jerusalem. — For myself dear 
Mother, I always feared sickness more than death, 



300 THE LIFE OF 

because sickness hath made me unable to perform those 
offices for which I came into the world, and must yet be 
kept in it ; but you are freed from that fear, who have 
already abundantly discharged that part, having both 
ordered your family, and so brought up your children, 
that they have attained to the years of discretion, and 
competent maintenance. So that now, if they do not 
well, the fault cannot be charged on you, whose example 
and care of them will justify you both to the world and 
your own conscience ; insomuch that, whether you turn 
your thoughts on the life past, or on the joys that are 
to come, you have strong preservatives against all dis- 
quiet. And for temporal afflictions, I beseech you con- 
sider, all that can happen to you are either afflictions of 
estate,, or body, or mind. For those of estate, of what 
poor regard ought they to be ? since, if we had riches, 
we are commanded to give them away : so that the best 
use of them is, having, not to have them. But perhaps, 
being above the common people, our credit and estima- 
tion calls on us to live in a more splendid fashion : but, 
God J how easily is that answered, when we consider 
that the blessings in the holy Scripture are never given 
to the rich, but to the poor. I never find ' Blessed be 
the rich,* or l Blessed be the noble / but, Blessed be 
the meek, and, Blessed be the poor, and, Blessed be 
the mourners, for they shall be comforted. — And 
yet, O God ! most carry themselves so, as if they not 
only not desired, but even feared to be blessed. — And: for 
afflictions of the body 3 dear Madam, remember the holy 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 301 

Martyrs of God,how they have been burned by thousands, 
and have endured such other tortures, as the very men- 
tion of them might beget amazement : but their fiery 
trials have had an end ; and yours — which, praised be 
God, are less, — are not like to continue long. I beseech 
you, let such thoughts as these moderate your present 
fear and sorrow ; and know, that if any of your s should 
prove a Goliah-like trouble, yet you may say with 
David, That God, who hath delivered me out of 
the paws of the lion and bear, will also deliver me 
out of the hands of this uncircumcised Philistine. — 
Lastly, for those afflictions of the soul} consider that 
God intends that to be as a Sacred Temple for himself 
to dwell in, and will not allow any room therefor such 
an inmate as grief; or allow that any sadness shall be 
his competitor. And, above all, if any care of future 
things molest you, remember those admirable words of 
of the Psalmist : Cast thy care on the Lord, and he 
shall nourish thee.* To which join that *p i i 22 
of St. Peter, Casting all your care on 
the Lord, for he careth for you.f What + l Pet ' y ' 7 ' 
an admirable thing is this, that God puts his shoulder 
to our burden, and entertains our carefor us, that we 
may the more quietly intend his service ! — To conclude, 
let me commend only one place more to you: Philipp. 
iv. 4. St. Paul saith there, Rejoice in the Lord al- 
ways : and again I say, rejoice. He doubles it to take 
away the scruple of those that might say, What, shall 
we rejoice in afflictions ? Yes, I say again, rejoice ; 



302 THE LIFE OF 

so that it is not left to us to rejoice, or not rejoice ; but, 
whatsoever befalls us, we must always, at all times, 
rejoice in the Lord, who taketh care for us. And it 
follows in the next verses : Let your moderation ap- 
pear to all men : The Lord is at hand : Be careful 
for nothing. What can be said more comfortably ? 
Trouble not yourselves ,• God is at hand, to deliver us 
from all, or in all. — Dear Madam, pardon my bold- 
ness, and accept the good meaning of 

Your most obedient son, 

George Herbert. 
Trin. Coll. May 25th 1622. 

About the year 1629, and the thirty-fourth of his 
age, Mr. Herbert was seized with a sharp quotidian 
ague, and thought to remove it by the change of air ; 
to which end, he went to Woodford in Essex, but 
thither more chiefly to enjoy the company of his be- 
loved brother, Sir Henry Herbert, and other friends 
then of that family. In his house he remained 
about twelve months, and there became his own 
physician, and cured himself of his ague, by for- 
bearing drink, and not eating any meat, no riot 
mutton, nor a hen, or pigeon, unless they were 
salted 5 and by such a constant diet he removed his 
ague, but with inconveniences that were worse ; 
for he brought upon himself a disposition to rheums, 
and other weaknesses, and a supposed consumption. 
And it is to be noted, that in the sharpest of his 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 303 

extreme fits he would often say, Lord, abate my great 
affliction, or increase my patience : but Lord, 1 repine 
not ; I am dumb, Lord, before thee, because thou doest 
it. By which, and a sanctified submission to the 
will of God, he shewed he was inclinable to bear 
the sweet yoke of Christian discipline, both then and 
in the latter part of his life, of which there will be 
many true testimonies. 

And now his care was to recover from his con- 
sumption, by a change from Woodford into such an 
air as was most proper to that end. And his re- 
move was to Dauntsey in Wiltshire, a noble house, 
which stands in a choice air 5 the owner of it then 
was the Lord Danvers, Earl of Danby, who loved 
Mr. Herbert so very much, that he allowed him such 
an apartment in it, as might best suit with his ac- 
commodation and liking. And in this place, by a 
spare diet, declining all perplexing studies, moderate 
exercise, and a cheerful conversation, his health was 
apparently improved to a good degree of strength 
and cheerfulness. And then he declared his reso- 
lution both to marry, and to enter into the Sacred 
Orders of Priesthood. These had long been the 
desires of his Mother, and his other relations 3 but 
she lived not to see either, for she died in the year 
1627. And though he was disobedient to her about 
Layton Church, yet, in conformity to her will, he 
kept his Orator's place till after her death, and then 
presently declined it $ and the more willingly, that 



304 THE LIFE OF 

he might be succeeded by his friend Robert Creigh- 
ton, who now is Dr. Creighton, and the worthy 
Bishop of Wells. 

I shall now proceed to his marriage ; in order to 
which, it will be convenient that I first give the 
Reader a short view of his person, and then an 
account of his wife, and of some circumstances 
concerning both. — He was for his person of a stature 
inclining towards tallness ; his body was very straight, 
and so far from being cumbered with too much flesh, 
that he was lean to an extremity. His aspect was 
cheerful, and his speech and motion did both declare 
him a gentleman ; for they were all so meek and oblig- 
ing, that they purchased love and respect from all that 
knew him. 

These, and his other visible virtues, begot him 
much love from a gentleman of a noble fortune, 
and a near kinsman to his friend the Earl of Danby ; 
namely, from Mr. Charles Danvers of Bainton, in 
the County of Wilts, Esq. This Mr. Danvers hav- 
ing known him long, and familiarly, did so much 
affect him, that he often and publicly declared a 
desire, that Mr. Herbert would marry any of his nine 
daughters, — for he had so many, — but rather his 
daughter Jane than any other, because Jane was 
his beloved daughter. And he had often said the 
same to Mr. Herbert himself 5 and that if he could 
like her for a wife, and she him for a husband, 
Jane should have a double blessing : and Mr. Danvers 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 305 

had so often said the like to Jane, and so much 
commended Mr. Herbert to her, that Jane became so 
much a platonic, as to fall in love with Mr. Herbert 
unseen. 

This was a fair preparation for a marriage ; but, 
alas ! her father died before Mr. Herbert's retire- 
ment to Dauntsey : yet some friends to both parties 
procured their meeting j at which time a mutual 
affection entered into both their hearts, as a con- 
queror enters into a surprised city : and love having 
got such possession, governed, and made there such 
laws and resolutions, as neither party was able to 
resist ; insomuch, that she changed her name into 
Herbert the third day after this first interview. 

This haste might in others be thought a love- 
frenzy, or worse j but it was not, for they had 
wooed so like princes, as to have select proxies 5 
such as were true friends to both parties, such as 
well understood Mr. Herbert's and her temper of 
mind, and also their estates, so well before this 
interview, that the suddenness was justifiable by 
the strictest rules of prudence j and the more, be- 
cause it proved so happy to both parties ; for the 
eternal lover of mankind made them happy in each 
other's mutual and equal affections, and compliance j 
indeed, so happy, that there never was any opposi- 
tion betwixt them, unless it were a contest which 
should most incline to a compliance with the other's 
desires. And though this begot, and continued in 
them, such a mutual love, and joy, and content, as 
s s 



306 THE LIFE OF 

was no way defective ; yet this mutual content, and 
love, and joy, did receive a daily augmentation, by 
such daily obligingness to each other, as still added 
such new affluences to the former fulness of these 
divine souls, as was only improvable in Heaven, 
where they now enjoy it. 

About three months after this marriage, Dr. Curie, 
who was then Rector of Bemerton, in Wiltshire, was 
made Bishop of Bath and Wells, and not long after 
translated to Winchester, and by that means the 
presentation of a Clerk to Bemerton did not fall to 
the Earl of Pembroke, — who was the undoubted 
Patron of it, — but to the King, by reason of Dr. 
Curie's advancement : but Philip, then Earl of Pem- 
broke, — for William was lately dead — requested the 
King to bestow it upon his kinsman George Herbert ; 
and the King said, Most willingly to Mr. Herbert, 
if it be worth his acceptance; and the Earl as wil- 
lingly and suddenly sent it him, without seeking. 
But though Mr. Herbert had formerly put on a 
resolution for the Clergy ; yet, at receiving this 
presentation, the apprehension of the last great 
account, that he was to make for the cure of so 
many souls, made him fast and pray often, and 
consider for not less than a month : in which time 
he had some resolutions to decline both the Priest- 
hood, and that living. And in this time of con- 
sidering, he endured, as he would often say, such 
spiritual conflicts, as none can think, but only those that 
have endured them. 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 307 

In the midst of these conflicts, his old and dear 
friend, Mr. Arthur Woodnot, took a journey to 
salute him at Bainton, — where he then was with 
his wife's friends and relations — and was joyful to 
be an eye-witness of his health and happy marriage. 
And after they had rejoiced together some few 
days, they took a journey to Wilton, the famous 
seat of the Earls of Pembroke • at which time the 
King, the Earl, and the whole Court were there, or 
at Salisbury, which is near to it. And at this time 
Mr. Herbert presented his thanks to the Earl, for 
his presentation to Bemerton, but had not yet re- 
solved to accept it, and told him the reason why : 
but that night, the Earl acquainted Dr. Laud, then 
Bishop of London, and after Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, with his kinsman's irresolution. And the 
Bishop did the next day so convince Mr. Herbert, 
that the refusal of it was a sin, that a tailor was sent 
for to come speedily from Salisbury to Wilton, to 
take measure, and make him canonical clothes 
against next day ; which the tailor did : and Mr. 
Herbert being so habited, went with his presenta- 
tion to the learned Dr. Davenant, who was then 
Bishop of Salisbury, and he gave him institution 
immediately, — for Mr. Herbert had been made 
Deacon some years before, — and he was also the 
same day — which was April 26th 1630, — inducted 
into the good, and more pleasant than healthful, 
Parsonage of Bemerton ; which is a mile from 
Salisbury, 



308 



THE LIFE OF 



I have now brought him to the Parsonage of Be- 
merton, and to the thirty-sixth year of his age, and 




must stop here, and bespeak the Reader to prepare for 
an almost incredible story, of the great sanctity of the 
short remainder of his holy life ; a life so full of charity, 
humility, and all Christian virtues, that it deserves the 
eloquence of St. Chrysostom to commend and declare 
it : a life, that if it were related by a pen like his, there 
would then be no need for this age to look back into 
times past for the examples of primitive piety ; for they 
might be all found in the life of George Herbert. 
But now, alas ! who is Jit to undertake it P I confess 
I am not ; and am not pleased with myself that I must -, 
and profess myself amazed, when I consider how few of 
the Clergy lived like him then, and how many, live so 
unlike him now. But it becomes not me to censure : 
my design is rather to assure the Reader, that I have 
used very great diligence to inform myself, that I might 
inform him of the truth of what follows $ and though 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 309 

I cannot adorn it with eloquence, yet I will do it with 
sincerity. 

When at his induction he was shut into Bemerton 
Church, being left there alone to toll the bell, — as 
the Law requires him, — he staid so much longer 
than an ordinary time, before he returned to those 
friends that staid expecting him at the Church-door, 
that his friend Mr. Woodnot looked in at the Church- 
window, and saw him lie prostrate on the ground 
before the Altar j at which time and place — as he 
after told Mr. Woodnot — he set some rules to him- 
self, for the future manage of his life ; and then and 
there made a vow to labour to keep them. 

And the same night that he had his induction, he 
said to Mr. Woodnot, I now look back upon my as- 
piring thoughts, and think myself more happy than if I 
had attained what then I so ambitiously thirsted for. 
And I can now behold the Court with an impartial eye, 
and see plainly that it is made up of fraud, and titles, 
and flattery, and many other such empty, imaginary, 
painted pleasures ,• pleasures, that are so empty, as not 
to satisfy when they are enjoyed. But in God, and his 
service, is a fulness of all joy and pleasure, and no 
satiety. And I will now use all my endeavours to 
bring my relations and dependents to a love and reliance 
on Him, who never fails those that trust him. But 
above all, I will be sure to live well, because the virtuous 
life of a Clergyman, is the most powerful eloquence to 
persuade all that see it to reverence and love, and at 
least to desire to live like him. And this I will do, 



310 THE LIFE OF 

because I know we live in an age that hath more need 
of good examples than precepts. And I beseech that 
God, who hath honoured me so much as to call me to 
serve him at his altar, that as by his special grace he 
hath put into my heart these good desires and resolu- 
tions j so he will, by his assisting grace, give me ghostly 
strength to bring the same to good effect. And I be- 
seech him, that my humble and charitable life may so win 
upon others, as to bring glory to my Jesus, whom I 
have this day taken to be my Master and Governor ; 
and I am so proud of his service, that I will always 
observe, and obey, and do his will; and always call 
him, Jesus my Master ; and I will always contemn 
my birth, or any title or dignity that can be conferred 
upon me, when I shall compare them with my title of 
being a Priest, and serving at the Altar of Jesus my 
Master. 

And that he did so, may appear in many parts of 
his book of Sacred Poems ; especially in that which 
he calls The Odour. In which he seems to rejoice 
in the thoughts of that word Jesus, and say, that 
the adding these words, my Master, to it, and the 
often repetition of them, seemed to perfume his 
mind, and leave an oriental fragrancy in his very 
breath. And for his unforced choice to serve at 
God's altar, he seems in another place of his poems, 
The Pearl, (Matth. xiii. 45, 46,) to rejoice and say — 
He knew the ways of learning ; knew what nature does 
willingly, and what, when it is forced by fire; knew the 
ways of honour, and when glory inclines the soul ta 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 311 

noble expressions : knew the Court ,• knew the ways of 
pleasure, of love, of wit, of music, and upon what terms 
he declined all these for the service of his Master Jesus ; 
and then concludes, saying, 

That, through these labyrinths, not my grovelling wit, 
But thy silk twist, let down from Heaven to me, 
Did both conduct, and teach me, how by it 

To climb to thee. 

The third day after he was made Rector of Be- 
merton, and had changed his sword and silk clothes 
into a canonical coat, he returned so habited with 
his friend Mr. Woodnot to Bainton ; and immediately 
after he had seen and saluted his wife, he said to 
her — You are now a Minister s wife, and must now so 
far forget your father s house, as not to claim a prece- 
dence of any of your parishioners -, for you are to know, 
that a Priest' s wife can challenge no precedence or place, 
but that ivhich she purchases by her obliging humility ,• 
and I am sure, places so purchased do best become 
them. And let me tell you, that I" am so good a He- 
rald, as to assure you that this is truth. And she was 
so meek a wife, as to assure him, it was no vexing 
news to her, and that he should see her observe it with 
a cheerful willingness. And, indeed, her unforced 
humility, that humility that was in her so original, 
as to be born with her, made her so happy as to 
do so ) and her doing so begot her an unfeigned 



312 THE LIFE OF 

love, and a serviceable respect from all that con- 
versed with her ; and this love followed her in all 
places, as inseparably as shadows follow substances 
in sunshine. 

It was not many days before he returned back to 
Bemerton, to view the Church, and repair the 
Chancel j and indeed to rebuild almost three parts 
of his house, which was fallen down, or decayed by 
reason of his predecessor's living at a better Parson- 
age-house , namely, at Minal, sixteen or twenty 
miles from this place. At which time of Mr. Her- 
bert's coming alone to Bemerton, there came to him 
a poor old woman, with an intent to acquaint him 
with her necessitous condition, as also with some 
troubles of her mind : but after she had spoke some 
few words to him, she was surprised with a fear, 
and that begot a shortness of breath, so that her 
spirits and speech failed her ; which he perceiving, 
did so compassionate her, and was so humble, that 
he took her by the hand, and said, Speak, good 
mother ,• be not afraid to speak to me ; for I am a man 
that will hear you with patience ; and will relieve your 
necessities too, if I be able : and this I will do willingly; 
and therefore, mother, be not afraid to acquaint me 
with what you desire. After which comfortable 
speech, he again took her by the hand, made her sit 
down by him, and understanding she was of his 
parish, he told her, He would be acquainted with her, 
and take her into his care. And having with patience 



MR. GEORTGE HERBERT. 313 

heard and understood her wants, — and it is some 
relief for a poor body to be but heard with patience, 
— he, like a Christian Clergyman, comforted her by 
his meek behaviour and counsel ; but because that 
cost him nothing, he relieved her with money too, 
and so sent her home with a cheerful heart, praising 
God, and praying for him. Thus worthy, and — like 
David's blessed man — thus lowly, was Mr. George 
Herbert in his own eyes, and thus lovely in the eyes of 
others. 

At his return that night to his wife at Sainton, he 
gave her an account of the passages betwixt him 
and the poor woman ; with which she was so af- 
fected, that she went next day to Salisbury, and 
there bought a pair of blankets, and sent them as a 
token of her love to the poor woman : and with 
them a message, That she would see and be acquainted 
with her, when her house was built at Bemerton. 

There be many such passages both of him and 
his wife, of which some few will be related : but I 
shall first tell, that he hasted to get the Parish- 
Church repaired ; then to beautify the Chapel, — 
which stands near his house, — and that at his own 
great charge. He then proceeded to rebuild the 
greatest part of the Parsonage -house, which he did 
also very completely, and at his own charge -, and 
having done this good work, he caused these verses 
to be writ upon, or engraven in, the mantle of the 
chimney in his hall. 

t t 



314 THE LIFE OF 

TO MY SUCCESSOR. 

If thou chance for to find 

A new house to thy mind, 
And built without thy cost ; 

Be good to the poor, 

As God gives thee store, 
And then my labour s not lost. 

We will now, by the Reader's favour, suppose 
him fixed at Bemerton, and grant him to have seen 
the Church repaired, and the Chapel belonging to 
it very decently adorned at his own great charge, 
— which is a real truth -, — and having now fixed him 
there, I shall proceed to give an account of the rest 
of his behaviour, both to his parishioners, and those 
many others that knew and conversed with him. 

Doubtless Mr. Herbert had considered, and given 
rules to himself for his Christian carriage both to 
God and man, before he entered into holy Orders. 
And 'tis not unlike, but that he renewed those re- 
solutions at his prostration before the holy altar, at 
his induction into the Church of Bemerton : but as 
yet he was but a Deacon, and therefore longed for 
the next Ember-week, that he might be ordained 
Priest, and made capable of administering both the 
Sacraments. At which time the reverend Dr. Hum- 
phrey Henchman, now Lord Bishop of London, — 
who does not mention him but with some veneration 
for his life and excellent learnings — tells me, He laid 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 315 

his hand on Mr. Herbert's head, and, Alas ! within 
less than three years, lent his shoulder to carry his dear 
friend to his grave. 

And that Mr. Herbert might the better preserve 
those holy rules which such a Priest as he intended 
to be, ought to observe ; and that time might not 
insensibly blot them out of his memory, but that the 
next year might shew him his variations from this 
year's resolutions ; he therefore did set down his 
rules, then resolved upon, in that order as the 
world now sees them printed in a little book, called, 
The Country Parson; in which some of his rules 
are : 

The Parsons knowledge. The Parson condescend- 
The Parson on Sundays. ing. 

The Parson praying. The Parson in his journey. 

The Parson preaching. The Parson in his mirth. 

The Parsons charity. The Parson with his 
The Parson comforting the Churchwardens, 

sick. The Parson blessing the 



The Parson arguing. people. 

And his behaviour toward God and man may be said 
to be a practical comment on these, and the other 
holy rules set down in that useful book : a book so 
full of plain, prudent, and useful rules, that that 
Country Parson, that can spare twelve-pence, and yet 
wants it, is scarce excusable ; because it will both 
direct him what he ought to do, and convince him 
for not having done it. 



316 THE LIFE OF 

At the death of Mr. Herbert, this book fell into 
the hands of his friend Mr. Woodnot ; and he com- 
mended it into the trusty hands of Mr. Barnabas 
Oley, who published it with a most conscientious 
and excellent preface $ from which I have had some 
of those truths, that are related in this Life of Mr. 
Herbert. The text of his first Sermon was taken 
out of Solomon's Proverbs, chap. iv. 23, and the 
words were, Keep thy heart with all diligence. In 
which first Sermon he gave his Parishioners many 
necessary, holy, safe rules for the discharge of a 
good conscience, both to God and man ; and de- 
livered his Sermon after a most florid manner, both 
with great learning and eloquence : but, at the close 
of this Sermon, told them, That should not be his con- 
stant way of preaching ; for since Almighty God does 
not intend to lead men to Heaven by hard questions, he 
would not therefore fill their heads with unnecessary 
notions ; but that, for their sokes, his language and his 
expressions should be more plain and practical in his 
future sermons. And he then made it his humble 
request, That they would be constant to the Afternoons 
Service, and Catechising : and shewed them convinc- 
ing reasons why he desired it j and his obliging 
example and persuasions brought them to a willing 
conformity to his desires. 

The texts for all his future sermons — which, 
God knows, were not many — were constantly taken 
out of the Gospel for the day 3 and he did as con- 
stantly declare why the Church did appoint that 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 317 

portion of Scripture to be that day read ; and in 
what manner the Collect for every Sunday does 
refer to the Gospel, or to the Epistle then read to 
them j and, that they might pray with understand- 
ing, he did usually take occasion to explain, not 
only the Collect for every particular Sunday, but the 
reasons of all the other Collects and Responses in our 
Church-service j and made it appear to them, that 
the whole service of the Church was a reasonable, and 
therefore an acceptable sacrifice to God ; as namely, 
that we begin with Confession of ourselves to be vile, 
miserable sinners ; and that we begin so, because, till 
we have confessed ourselves to be such, we are not 
capable of that mercy which we acknowledge we 
need, and pray for : but having, in the prayer of 
our Lord, begged pardon for those sins which we 
have confessed 3 and hoping, that as the Priest hath 
declared our Absolution, so by our public confession, 
and real repentance, we have obtained that pardon ; 
then we dare and do proceed to beg of the Lord, to 
open our lips, that our mouth may shew forth his praise ; 
for till then we are neither able nor worthy to 
praise him. But this being supposed, we are then 
fit to say, Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and 
to the Holy Ghost ; and fit to proceed to a further 
service of our God, in the Collects, and Psalms, and 
Lauds, to follow in the service. 

And as to these Psalms and Lauds, he proceeded 
to inform them why they were so often, and some 
of them daily, repeated in our Church-service; 



318 THE LIFE OF 

namely, the Psalms every month, because they be 
an historical and thankful repetition of mercies past, 
and such a composition of prayers and praises, as 
ought to be repeated often, and publicly ; for with 
such sacrifices God is honoured and well pleased. This 
for the Psalms. 

And for the Hymns and Lauds appointed to be 
daily repeated or sung after the first and second 
Lessons are read to the congregation ; he pro- 
ceeded to inform them, that it was most reason- 
able, after they have heard the will and goodness of 
God declared or preached by the Priest in his reading 
the two chapters, that it was then a seasonable duty 
to rise up, and express their gratitude to Almighty 
God, for those his mercies to them, and to all man- 
kind 5 and then to say with the Blessed Virgin, that 
their souls do magnify the Lord, and that their spirits do 
also rejoice in God their Saviour: and that it was their 
duty also to rejoice with Simeon in his song, and 
say with him, That their eyes have also seen their salva- 
vation; for they have seen that salvation which was 
but prophesied till his time : and he then broke out 
into those expressions of joy that he did see it} 
but they live to see it daily in the history of it, and 
therefore ought daily to rejoice, and daily to offer 
up their sacrifices of praise to their God, for that 
particular mercy. A service, which is now the con- 
stant employment of that Blessed Virgin, and Simeon, 
and all those blessed Saints that are possessed of 
Heaven : and where they are at this time inter- 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 319 



changeably and constantly singing, Holy, holy, 
Lord God; glory be to God on high, and on earth 
peace. And he taught them, that to do this was an 
acceptable service to God, because the Prophet 
David says in his Psalms, He that praiseth the Lord 
honoureth him. 

He made them to understand how happy they 
be that are freed from the incumbrances of that 
law which our forefathers groaned under j namely, 
from the legal sacrifices, and from the many ceremo- 
nies of the Levitical law ; freed from Circumcision, and 
from the strict observation of the Jewish Sabbath, 
and the like. And he made them know, that hav- 
ing received so many and so great blessings, by 
being born since the days of our Saviour, it must 
be an acceptable sacrifice to Almighty God, for 
them to acknowledge those blessings daily, and 
stand up and worship, and say as Zacharias did, 
Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he hath — in our 
days— visited and redeemed his people ; and — he hath 
in our days — remembered, and shewed that mercy, 
which by the mouth of the Prophets, he promised to our 
forefathers', and this he hath done according to his 
holy covenant made with them. And he made them 
to understand that we live to see and enjoy the 
benefit of it, in his Birth, in his Life, his Passion, 
his Resurrection, and Ascension into Heaven where, 
he now sits sensible of all our temptations and 
infirmities j and where he is at this present time 
making intercession for us, to his and our Father ; 



320 THE LIFE OF 

and therefore they ought daily to express their 
public gratulations, and say daily with Zacharias, 
Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, that hath thus visi- 
ted and thus redeemed his people. — These were some 
of the reasons, by which Mr. Herbert instructed his 
congregation for the use of the Psalms and the 
Hymns appointed to be daily sung or said in the 
Church-service. 

He informed them also, when the Priest did pray 
only for the congregation, and not for himself 3 and 
when they did only pray for him 3 as namely, after 
the repetition of the Creed before he proceeds to 
pray the Lord's Prayer, or any of the appointed 
Collects, the Priest is directed to kneel down, and 
pray for them, saying, The Lord be with you; and 
when they pray for him, saying, And with thy spirit; 
and then they join together in the following Col- 
lects : and he assured them, that when there is 
such mutual love, and such joint prayers offered for 
each other, then the holy Angels look down from 
Heaven, and are ready to carry such charitable 
desires to God Almighty, and he as ready to receive 
them 5 and that a Christian congregation calling 
thus upon God with one heart, and one voice, and 
in one reverent and humble posture, looks as beauti- 
fully as Jerusalem, that is at peace with itself. 

He instructed them also why the prayer of our 
Lord was prayed often in every full service of the 
Church j namely, at the conclusion of the several 
parts of that service ; and prayed then, not only 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 321 

because it was composed and commanded by our 
Jesus that made it, but as a perfect pattern for our 
less perfect forms of prayer, and therefore fittest to 
sum up and conclude all our imperfect petitions. 

He instructed them also, that as by the second 
Commandment we are required not to bow down, 
or worship an idol, or false God; so, by the con- 
trary rule, we are to bow down and kneel, or stand 
up and worship the true God. And he instructed 
them why the Church required the congregation to 
stand up at the repetition of the Creeds ; namely, 
because they did thereby declare both their obedi- 
ence to the Church, and an assent to that faith into 
which they had been baptized. And he taught 
them, that in that shorter Creed, or Doxology, so 
often repeated daily, they also stood up to testify 
their belief to be, that the God that they trusted in 
was one God, and three persons ; the Father, the Son, 
and the Holy Ghost ) to whom they and the Priest gave 
glory. And because there had been heretics that 
had denied some of those three persons to be God, 
therefore the congregation stood up and honoured 
him, by confessing and saying, It was so in the begin' 
ning, is now so, and shall ever be so world without end. 
And all gave their assent to this belief, by standing 
up and saying, Amen. 

He instructed them also what benefit they had 
by the Church's appointing the celebration of holi- 
days and the excellent use of them ; namely, that 
they were set apart for particular commemorations 
u u 



322 THE LIFE OF 

of particular mercies received from Almighty God ; 
and — as the reverend Mr. Hooker says — to be the 
landmarks to distinguish times 5 for by them we are 
taught to take notice how time passes by us, and 
that we ought not to let the years pass without a 
celebration of praise for those mercies which those 
days give us occasion to remember 5 and therefore 
they were to note that the year is appointed to 
begin the 25th day of March ; a day in which we 
commemorate the Angel's appearing to the Blessed 
Virgin, with the joyful tidings that she should conceive 
arid bear a son, that should be the Redeemer of man- 
kind. And she did so forty weeks after this joyful 
salutation j namely, at our Christmas; a day in which 
we commemorate his Birth with joy and praise: 
and that eight days after this happy birth we cele- 
brate his Circumcision; namely, in that which we 
call New-year s day. And that, upon that day which 
we call Twelfth-day, we commemorate the manifes- 
tation of the unsearchable riches of Jesus to the 
Gentiles : and that that day we also celebrate the 
memory of his goodness in sending a star to guide 
the three Wise Men from the East to Bethlehem, that 
they might there worship, and present him with 
their oblations of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 
And he — Mr. Herbert — instructed them, that Jesus 
was forty days after his birth presented by his 
blessed mother in the Temple j namely, on that 
day which we call, The Purification of the Blessed 
Virgin, Saint Mary. And he instructed them, that 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 323 

by the Lent-fast we imitate and commemorate our 
Saviour's humiliation in fasting forty days 3 and that 
we ought to endeavour to be like him in purity: 
and that on Good Friday we commemorate and con- 
dole his Crucifixion', and at Easter commemorate his 
glorious Resurrection. And he taught them, that 
after Jesus had manifested himself to his Disciples 
to be that Christ that was crucified, dead and buried', 
and by his appearing and conversing with his Disci- 
ples for the space of forty days after his Resurrec- 
tion, he then, and not till then, ascended into Heaven 
in the sight of those Disciples - } namely, on that 
day which we call the Ascension, or Holy Thursday. 
And that we then celebrate the performance of the 
promise which he made to his Disciples at or before 
his Ascension 5 namely, that though he left them, yet 
he would send them the Holy Ghost to be their Com- 
forter; and that he did so on that day which the 
Church calls Whitsunday. — Thus the Church keeps 
an historical and circular commemoration of times, 
as they pass by us ; of such times as ought to incline 
us to occasional praises, for the particular bles- 
sings which we do, or might receive, by those holy 
commemorations. 

He made them know also why the Church hath 
appointed Ember-weeks-, and to know the reason 
why the Commandments, and the Epistles and Gos- 
pels, were to be read at the Altar, or Communion 
Table; why the Priest was to pray the Litany kneel- 
ing j and why to pray some Collects standing : and 



324 THE LIFE OF 

he gave them many other observations, fit for his 
plain congregation, but not fit for me now to men- 
tion 5 for I must set limits to my pen, and not make 
that a treatise, which I intended to be a much 
shorter account than I have made it : but I have 
done, when I have told the Reader, that he was 
constant in catechising every Sunday in the afternoon, 
and that his catechising was after his Second Les- 
son, and in the pulpit 5 and that he never exceeded 
his half hour, and was always so happy as to have 
an obedient and a full congregation. 

And to this I must add, that if he were at any 
time too zealous in his Sermons, it was in reproving 
the indecencies of the people's behaviour in the time 
of divine service j and of those Ministers that huddle 
up the Church-prayers, without a visible reverence 
and affection 5 namely, such as seemed to say the 
Lord's prayer , or a Collect, in a breath. But for him- 
self, his custom was, to stop betwixt every Collect, 
and give the people time to consider what they had 
prayed, and to force their desires affectionately to 
God, before he engaged them into new petitions. 

And by this account of his diligence to make his 
parishioners understand what they prayed, and why 
they praised and adored their Creator, I hope I shall 
the more easily obtain the Reader's belief to the 
following account of Mr. Herbert's own practice ; 
which was to appear constantly with his wife and 
three nieces — the daughters of a deceased sister — 
and his whole family, twice every day at the Church- 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 325 

prayers, in the Chapel, which does almost join to 
his Parsonage -house. And for the time of his ap- 
pearing, it was strictly at the canonical hours of 
ten and four : and then and there he lifted up pure 
and charitable hands to God in the midst of the 
congregation. And he would joy to have spent that 
time in that place, where the honour of his Master 
Jesus dwelleth ; and there, by that inward devotion 
which he testified constantly by an humble behaviour 
and visible adoration, he, like Joshua, brought not only 
his own household thus to serve the Lord ,• but brought 
most of his parishioners, and many gentlemen in the 
neighbourhood, constantly to make a part of his 
congregation twice a day ; and some of the meaner 
sort of his parish did so love and reverence Mr. 
Herbert, that they would let their plough rest when 
Mr. Herbert's Sainfs-bell rung to prayers, that they 
might also offer their devotions to God with him $ 
and would then return back to their plough. And 
his most holy life was such, that it begot such re- 
verence to God, and to him, that they thought 
themselves the happier, when they carried Mr. 
Herbert's blessing back with them to their labour. 
Thus powerful was his reason and example to per- 
suade others to a practical piety and devotion. 

And his constant public prayers did never make 
him to neglect his own private devotions, nor those 
prayers that he thought himself bound to perform 
with his family, which always were a set form, and 
not long j and he did always conclude them with 
that Collect which the Church hath appointed for 



326 THE LIFE OF 

the day or week. — Thus he made every days sanctity 
a step towards that kingdom, where impurity cannot 
enter. 

His chiefest recreation was Music, in which 
heavenly art he was a most excellent master, and 
did himself compose many divine Hymns and An- 
thems, which he set and sung to his lute or viol : and 
though he was a lover of retiredness, yet his love to 
Music was such, that he went usually twice every 
week, on certain appointed days, to the Cathedral 
Church in Salisbury ; and at his return would say, 
That his time spent in prayer, and Cathedral-music, 
elevated his soul, and was his Heaven upon earth. But 
before his return thence to Bemerton, he would 
usually sing and play his part at an appointed private 
Music-meeting j and, to justify this practice, he 
would often say, Religion does not banish mirth, but 
only moderates and sets rules to it 

And as his desire to enjoy his Heaven upon earth 
drew him twice every week to Salisbury, so his 
walks thither were the occasion of many happy 
accidents to others 3 of which I will mention some 
few. 

In one of his walks to Salisbury, he overtook a 
gentleman, that is still living in that City ; and in 
their walk together, Mr. Herbert took a fair occasion 
to talk with him, and humbly begged to be excused, 
if he asked him some account of his faith ; and 
said, I do this the rather, because though you are not of 
my parish, yet I receive ty the from you by the hand of 
your tenant ; and, Sir, I am the bolder to do it, because 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 327 

I know there be some sermon-hearers that be like those 
fishes, that always live in salt water, and yet are always 
fresh. 

After which expression, Mr. Herbert asked him 
some needful questions, and having received his 
answer, gave him such rules for the trial of his sin- 
cerity, and for a practical piety, and in so loving and 
meek a manner, that the gentleman did so fall in 
love with him, and his discourse, that he would 
often contrive to meet him in his walk to Salisbury, 
or to attend him back to Bemerton ; and still men- 
tions the name of Mr. George Herbert with venera- 
tion, and still praiseth God for the occasion of 
knowing him. 

In another of his Salisbury walks, he met with a 
neighbour Minister 5 and after some friendly dis- 
course betwixt them, and some condolement for the 
decay of piety, and too general contempt of the 
Clergy, Mr. Herbert took occasion to say, 

One cure for these distempers would be, for the Clergy 
themselves to keep the Ember-weeks strictly, and beg 
of their parishioners to join with them in fasting and 
prayers for a more religious Clergy. 

And another cure would be, for themselves to re- 
store the great and neglected duty of Catechising, on 
which the salvation of so many of the poor and igno- 
rant lay -people does depend ; but principally, that the 
Clergy themselves would be sure to live unblameably ; and 
that the dignified Clergy especially, which preach tem- 
perance, would avoid surfeiting, and take all occasions 
to express a visible humility and charity in their lives ; 



283 THE LIFE OF 

for this would force a love and an imitation, and an 
unfeigned reverence from all that knew them to be such. 
(And for proof of this, we need no other testimony 
than the life and death of Dr. Lake, late Lord Bishop 
of Bath and Wells.) This, said Mr. Herbert, would 
be a cure for the wickedness and growing Atheism of 
our age. And, my dear brother, till this be done by 
us, and done in earnest, let no man expect a reformation 
of the manners of the Laity ; for 'tis not learning, but 
this, this only that must do it ,• and, till then, the fault 
must lie at our doors. 

In another walk to Salisbury, he saw a poor man 
with a poorer horse, that was fallen under his load : 
they were both in distress, and needed present 
help j which Mr. Herbert perceiving, put off his ca- 
nonical coat, and helped the poor man to unload, 
and after to load, his horse. The poor man blessed 
him for it, and he blessed the poor man $ and was 
so like the good Samaritan, that he gave him money 
to refresh both himself and his horse; and told 
him, That if he loved himself, he should be merciful to 
his beast. Thus he left the poor man : and at his 
coming to his musical friends at Salisbury, they be- 
gan to wonder that Mr. George Herbert, which used 
to be so trim and clean, came into that company so 
soiled and discomposed : but he told them the oc- 
casion. And when one of the company told him 
He had disparaged himself by so dirty an employment, 
his answer was, That he thought of what he had done 
would prove music to him at midnight', and that the 
omission of it would have upbraided and made discord in 





'.; Rolls, ScuLpT 



TMM ©@®3E) lAliM^AI. 



LONDON. 
. * 1825. 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 329 

his conscience, vjhensoever he should pass by that place : 
for if I be bound to pray for all that be in distress, I am 
sure that I am bound, so far as it is in my power, to 
practise what I pray for. And though I do not wish for 
the like occasion every day, yet let me tell you, I would 
not willingly pass one day of my life without comforting 
a sad soul, or shewing mercy ; and I praise God for this 
occasion. And now let's tune our instruments. 

Thus, as our blessed Saviour, after his Resurrec- 
tion, did take occasion to interpret the Scripture to 
Cleophas, and that other Disciple, which he met 
with and accompanied in their journey to Emmaus ; 
so Mr. Herbert, in his path toward Heaven, did 
daily take any fair occasion to instruct the ignorant, 
or comfort any that were in affliction j and did 
always confirm his precepts, by shewing humility 
and mercy, and ministering grace to the hearers. 

And he was most happy in his wife's unforced 
compliance with his acts of charity, whom he made 
his almoner, and paid constantly into her hand, a 
tenth penny of what money he received for tythe, and 
gave her power to dispose that to the poor of his 
parish, and with it a power to dispose a tenth part 
of the corn that came yearly into his barn : which 
trust she did most faithfully perform, and would often 
offer to him an account of her stewardship, and as often 
beg an enlargement of his bounty ; for she rejoiced 
in the employment : and this was usually laid out by 
her in blankets and shoes for some such poor people 
as she knew to stand in most need of them. This 
as to her charity. — And for his own, he set no limits 
x x 



330 THE LIFE OF 

to it : nor did ever turn his face from any that he 
saw in want, but would relieve them 3 especially his 
poor neighbours ; to the meanest of whose houses 
he would go, and inform himself of their wants, and 
relieve them cheerfully, if they were in distress > 
and would always praise God, as much for being 
willing, as for being able to do it. And when he 
was advised by a friend to be more frugal, because 
he might have children, his answer was, He would 
not see the danger of want so far off: but being the 
Scripture does so commend Charity, as to tell us that 
Charity is the top of Christian virtues, the covering of 
sins, the fulfilling of the Law, the life of Faith ; and 
that Charity hath a promise of the blessings of this life, 
and of a reward in that life which is to come : being 
these, and more excellent things are in Scripture spoken 
of thee, O Charity ! and that, being all my tythes and 
Church-dues are a deodate/rom thee, my God ! make 
me, O my God ! so far to trust thy promise, as to return 
them back to thee ; and by thy grace I will do so, in 
distributing them to any of thy poor members that are in 
distress, or do but bear the image of Jesus my Master. 
Sir, said he to his friend, my wife hath a competent 
maintenance secured her after my death ; and therefore, 
as this is my prayer, so this my resolution shall, by God's 
grace, be unalterable. 

This may be some account of the excellencies of 
the active part of his life $ and thus he continued, 
till a consumption so weakened him, as to confine 
him to his house, or to the Chapel, which does 
almost join to it 3 in which he continued to read 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 331 

prayers constantly twice every day, though he were 
very weak : in one of which times of his reading, 
his wife observed him to read in pain, and told 
him so, and that it wasted his spirits, and weakened 
him ; and he confessed it did, but said, his life could 
not be better spent, than in the service of his Master 
Jesus, who had done and suffered so much for him. 
But, said he, I will not be wilful ; for though my spirit 
be willing, yet I find my flesh is weak ; and therefore 
Mr. Bostock shall be appointed to read prayers for me 
to-morrow ; and I will now be only a hearer of them, 
till this mortal shall put on immortality. And Mr. 
Bostock did the next day undertake and continue 
this happy employment, till Mr. Herbert's death. 
This Mr. Bostock was a learned and virtuous man, 
an old friend of Mr. Herbert's, and then his Curate 
to the Church of Fulston, which is a mile from 




Bemerton, to which Church Bemerton is but a Chapel 
of Ease. And this Mr. Bostock did also constantly 



332 THE LIFE OF 

supply the Church-service for Mr. Herbert in that 
Chapel, when the Music -meeting at Salisbury caused 
his absence from it. 

About one month before his death, his friend Mr. 
Farrer, — for an account of whom I am by promise 
indebted to the Reader, and intend to make him 
sudden payment, — hearing of Mr. Herbert's sickness, 
sent Mr. Edmund Duncon — who is now Rector of 
Friar Barnet in the County of Middlesex — from his 
house of Gidden Hall, which is near to Huntingdon, 
to see Mr. Herbert, and to assure him, he wanted 
not his daily prayers for his recovery ; and Mr. 
Duncon was to return back to Gidden, with an ac- 
count of Mr. Herbert's condition. Mr. Duncon found 
him weak, and at that time lying on his bed, or on 
a pallet ; but at his seeing Mr. Duncon he raised 
himself vigorously, saluted him, and with some 
earnestness enquired the health of his brother Farrer ; 
of which Mr. Duncon satisfied him, and after some 
discourse of Mr. Farrer s holy life, and the manner 
of his constant serving God, he said to Mr. Duncon, 
— Sir, I see by your habit that you are a Priest, and I 
desire you to pray with me: which being granted, 
Mr. Duncon asked him, What prayers ? To which 
Mr. Herbert's answer was, 0, Sir ! the prayers of my 
Mother, the Church of England : no other prayers are 
equal to them ! But at this time, I beg of you to pray 
only the Litany, for I am weak and faint: and Mr. 
Duncon did so. After which, and some other dis- 
course of Mr. Farrer, Mrs. Herbert provided Mr. 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 333 

Duncon a plain supper, and a clean lodging, and he 
betook himself to rest. This Mr. Duncon tells me, 
and tells me, that, at his first view of Mr. Herbert, 
he saw majesty and humility so reconciled in his 
looks and behaviour, as begot in him an awful re- 
verence for his person ; and say, his discourse was 
so pious, and his motion so genteel and meek, that after 
almost forty years, yet they remain still fresh in his 
memory. 

The next morning Mr. Duncon left him, and be- 
took himself to a journey to Bath, but with a promise 
to return back to him within five days ; and he did 
so : but before I shall say any thing of what discourse 
then fell betwixt them too, I will pay my promised 
account of Mr. Farrer. 

Mr. Nicholas Farrer — who got the reputation of 
being called Saint Nicholas at the age of six years- 
was born in London, and doubtless had good educa- 
tion in his youth ; but certainly was, at an early 
age, made Fellow of Clare-Hall in Cambridge ; where 
he continued to be eminent for his piety, temperance, 
and learning. About the twenty-sixth year of his 
age, he betook himself to travel : in which he added, 
to his Latin and Greek, a perfect knowledge of all 
the languages spoken in the Western parts of our 
Christian world j and understood well the principles 
of their Religion, and of their manner, and the 
reasons of their worship. In this his travel he met 
with many persuasions to come into a communion 
with that Church which calls itself Catholic ; but he 



334 THE LIFE OF 

returned from his travels as he went, eminent for 
his obedience to his mother, the Church of England. 
In his absence from England, Mr. Farrer' s father — 
who was a merchant — allowed him a liberal main- 
tenance 5 and, not long after his return into England, 
Mr. Farrer had, by the death of his father, or an 
elder brother, or both, an estate left him, that en- 
abled him to purchase land to the value of four or 
five hundred pounds a year ; . the greatest part of 
which land was at Little Gidden, four or six miles 
from Huntingdon, and about eighteen from Cam- 
bridge; which place he chose for the privacy of it, 
and for the Hall, which had the Parish-Church or 
Chapel, belonging and adjoining near to it ; for Mr. 
Farrer having seen the manners and vanities of the 
world, and found them to be, as Mr. Herbert says, a 
nothing between two dishes, did so contemn it, that he 
resolved to spend the remainder of his life in morti- 
fications, and in devotion, and charity, and to be 
always prepared for death. And his life was spent 
thus : 

He and his family, which were like a little Col- 
lege, and about thirty in number, did most of them 
keep Lent and all Ember-weeks strictly, both in 
fasting and using all those mortifications and prayers 
that the Church hath appointed to be then used 5 
and he and they did the like constantly on Fridays, 
and on the Vigils or Eves appointed to be fasted 
before the Saints' days : and this frugality and ab- 
stinence turned to the relief of the poor : but this 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 335 

was but a part of his charity ; none but God and 
he knew the rest. 

This family, which I have said to be in number 
about thirty, were a part of them his kindred, and 
the rest chosen to be of a temper fit to be moulded 
into a devout life ; and all of them were for their 
dispositions serviceable, and quiet, and humble, and 
free from scandal. Having thus fitted himself for 
his family, he did, about the year 1630, betake him- 
self to a constant and methodical service of God ; 
and it was in this manner ; — He, being accompanied 
with most of his family, did himself use to read the 
common prayers — for he was a Deacon — every day, 
at the appointed hours of ten and four, in the Parish- 
Church, which was very near his house, and which 
he had both repaired and adorned ; for it was fallen 
into a great ruin, by reason of a depopulation of 
the village before Mr. Farrer bought the manor. 
And he did also constantly read the Matins every 
morning at the hour of six, either in the Church, 
or in an Oratory, which was within his own house. 
And many of the family did there continue with 
him after the prayers were ended, and there they 
spent some hours in singing Hymns, or Anthems, 
sometimes in the Church, and often to an organ in 
the Oratory. And there they sometimes betook 
themselves to meditate, or to pray privately, or to 
read a part of the New Testament to themselves, 
or to continue their praying or reading the Psalms 5 
and in case the Psalms were not always read in the 



336 THE LIFE OF 

day, then Mr Farrer, and others of the congrega- 
tion, did at night, at the ringing of a watch-bell, 
repair to the Church or Oratory, and there betake 
themselves to prayers and lauding God, and reading 
the Psalms that had not been read in the day : and 
when these, or any part of the congregation, grew 
weary or faint, the watch -bell was rung, sometimes 
before, and sometimes after midnight ; and then 
another part of the family rose, and maintained the 
watch, sometimes by praying, or singing lauds to 
God, or reading the Psalms : and when, after some 
hours, they also grew weary or faint, then they 
rung the watch-bell and were also relieved by some 
of the former, or by a new part of the society, 
which continued their devotions— as hath been men- 
tioned — until morning. And it is to be noted, that 
in this continued serving of God, the Psalter, or 
whole Book of Psalms, was in every four and 
twenty hours sung or read over, from the first to 
the last verse - } and this was done as constantly as 
the sun runs his circle every day about the world, 
and then begins again the same instant that it 
ended. 

Thus did Mr. Farrer and his happy family serve 
God day and night : thus did they always behave 
themselves as in his presence. And they did 
always eat and drink by the strictest rules of tem- 
perance 5 eat and drink so as to be ready to rise at 
midnight, or at the call of a watch-bell, and per- 
form their devotions to God. And it is fit to tell 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 337 

the Reader, that many of the Clergy, that were 
more inclined to practical piety and devotion, than to 
doubtful and needless disputations, did often come 
to Gidden Hall, and make themselves a part of that 
happy society, and stay a week or more, and then 
join with Mr. Farrer and the family in these devo- 
tions, and assist and ease him or them in their 
watch by night. And these various devotions had 
never less than two of the domestic family in the 
night; and the watch was always kept in the 
Church, or Oratory, unless in extreme cold winter 
nights, and then it was maintained in a parlour, 
which had a fire in it -, and the parlour was fitted 
for that purpose. And this course of piety, and 
great liberality to his poor neighbours, Mr. Farrer 
maintained till his death, which was in the year 
1639. 

Mr. Farrer s and Mr. Herbert's devout lives were 
both so noted, that the general report of their 
sanctity gave them occasion to renew that slight 
acquaintance which was begun at their being 
contemporaries in Cambridge- and this new holy 
friendship was long maintained without any inter- 
view, but only by loving and endearing letters. And 
one testimony of their friendship and pious designs, 
may appear by Mr. Farrer s commending the Con- 
siderations of John Valdesso — a book which he had 
met with in his travels, and translated out of Spanish 
into English, — to be examined and censured by Mr. 
Herbert before it was made public 5 which excellent 
vy 



338 THE LIFE OF 

book Mr. Herbert did read, and return back with 
many marginal notes, as they be now printed with 
it ; and with them, Mr. Herbert's affectionate letter 
to Mr. Farrer. 

This John Valdesso was a Spaniard, and was for 
his learning and virtue much valued and loved by 
the great Emperor Charles the Fifth, whom Valdesso 
had followed as a Cavalier all the time of his long 
and dangerous wars : and when Valdesso grew old, 
and grew weary both of war and the world, he took 
his fair opportunity to declare to the Emperor, that 
his resolution was to decline his Majesty's service, 
and betake himself to a quiet and contemplative 
life, because there ought to be a vacancy of time betwixt 
fighting and dying. The Emperor had himself, for 
the same, or other like reasons, put on the same 
resolution : but God and himself did, till then, only 
know them ; and he did therefore desire Valdesso to 
consider well of what he had said, and to keep his 
purpose within his own breast, till they two might 
have a second opportunity of a friendly discourse ; 
which Valdesso promised to do. 

In the mean time the Emperor appoints privately 
a day for him and Valdesso to meet again ; and, 
after a pious and free discourse, they both agreed 
on a certain day to receive the blessed Sacrament 
publicly j and appointed an eloquent and devout 
Friar to preach a Sermon of contempt of the world, 
and of the happiness and benefit of a quiet and con- 
templative life j which the Friar did most affec- 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 339 

tionately. After which Sermon, the Emperor took 
occasion to declare openly, That the Preacher had 
begot in him a resolution to lay down his dignities, and 
to forsake the world, and betake himself to a monastical 
life. And he pretended, he had persuaded John 
Valdesso to do the like : but this is most certain, 
that after the Emperor had called his son Philip out 
of England, and resigned to him all his kingdoms, 
that then the Emperor and John Valdesso did per- 
form their resolutions. 

This account of John Valdesso I received from a 
friend, that had it from the mouth of Mr. Farrer. 
And the Reader may note, that in this retirement 
John Valdesso writ his Hundred and Ten Considera- 
tions, and many other treatises of worth, which 
want a second Mr. Farrer to procure and translate 
them. 

After this account of Mr. Farrer and John Val- 
desso, I proceed to my account of Mr. Herbert, and 
Mr. Duncon, who, according to his promise, re- 
turned from the Bath the fifth day, and then found 
Mr. Herbert much weaker than he left him ; and 
therefore their discourse could not be long : but at 
Mr. Duncon s parting with him, Mr. Herbert spoke 
to this purpose : Sir, I pray you give my brother 
Farrer an account of the decaying condition of my body, 
and tell him I beg him to continue his daily prayers for 
me : and let him know that I have considered, that 
God only is what he would be ; and that I am, by 



340 THE LIFE OF 

his grace, become now so like him, as to be pleased with 
what pleaseth him : and tell him, that I do not repine, 
but am pleased with my want of health : and tell him, 
my heart is fixed on that place where true joy is only to 
be found ; and that I long to be there, and do wait for 
my appointed change with hope and patience. Having 
said this, he did, with so sweet a humility as seemed 
to exalt him, bow down to Mr. Duncon, and with a 
thoughtful and contented look, say to him, Sir, I 
pray deliver this little book to my dear brother Farrer, 
and tell him, he shall find in it a picture of the many 
spiritual confiicts that have passed betwixt God and my 
soul, before I could subject mine to the will of Jesus 
my Master ; in whose service I have now found perfect 
freedom. Desire him to read it ; and then, if he can 
think it may turn to the advantage of any dejected poor 
soul, let it be made public ; if not let him burn it ; for 
I and it are less than the least of God's mercies. Thus 
meanly did this humble man think of this excellent 
book, which now bears the name of The Temple; 
or, Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations -, of which 
Mr. Farrer would say, There was in it the picture of 
a divine soul in every page ; and that the whole booh 
was such a harmony of holy passions, as would enrich 
the world with pleasure and piety, And it appears to 
have done so ; for there have been more than 
twenty thousand of them sold since the first im- 
pression. 

And this ought to be noted, that when Mr* Farrer 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 341 

sent this book to Cambridge to be licensed for the 
press, the Vice-Chancellor would by no means allow 
the two so much noted verses, 

Religion stands a tiptoe in our land, 
Ready to pass to the American strand, 

to be printed -, and Mr. Farrer would by no means 
allow the book to be printed and want them. But 
after some time, and some arguments for and 
against their being made public, the Vice- Chancellor 
said, I knew Mr. Herbert well, and know that he had 
many heavenly speculations, and was a divine poet : 
but I hope the world will not take him to be an inspired 
prophet, and therefore I licence the whole book. So 
that it came to be printed without the diminution 
or addition of a syllable, since it was delivered into 
the hands of Mr. Duncoii, save only that Mr. Farrer 
hath added that excellent Preface that is printed 
before it. 

At the time of Mr. Duncons leaving Mr. Herbert, 
— which was about three weeks before his death, — 
his old and dear friend Mr. Woodnot came from 
London to Bemerton, and never left him till he had 
seen him draw his last breath, and closed his eyes 
on his death-bed. In this time of his decay, he was 
often visited and prayed for by all the Clergy that 
lived near to him, especially by his friends the 
Bishop and Prebends of the Cathedral Church in 
Salisbury ,• but by none more devoutly than his 



342 THE LIFE OF 

wife, his three nieces, — then a part of his family,— 
and Mr. Woodnot, who were the sad witnesses of 
his daily decay 5 to whom he would often speak to 
this purpose : I now look back upon the pleasures of 
my life past, and see the content I have taken in beauty, 
in wit, in music, and pleasant conversation, are now 
all past by me like a dream, or as a shadow that returns 
not, and are now all become dead to me, or I to them ; 
and I see, that as my father and generation hath done 
before me, so I also shall now suddenly (with Job) 
make my bed also in the dark 5 and I praise God 
I am prepared for it; and I praise him that I am not 
to learn patience now I stand in such need of it ; and 
that I have practised mortification, and endeavoured to 
die daily, that I might not die eternally ; and my hope 
is, that I shall shortly leave this valley of tears, and 
be free from all fevers and pain ; and, which will be 
a more happy condition, I shall be free from sin, and all 
the temptations and anxieties that attend it: and this 
being past, I shall dwell in the New Jerusalem j dwell 
there with men made perfect ,- dwell where these eyes 
shall see my Master and Saviour Jesus; and with 
him see my dear Mother, and all my relations and friends. 
But I must die, or not come to that happy place. And 
this is my content, that I am going daily towards it : 
and that every day which I have lived, hath taken 
a part of my appointed time from me ,• and that I shall 
live the less time, for having lived this and the day past. 
These, and the like expressions, which he uttered 
often, may be said to be his enjoyment of Heaven 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 343 

before he enjoyed it. The Sunday before his death, 
he rose suddenly from his bed or couch, called for 
one of his instruments, took it into his hand and 
said, 

My God, my God, 

My music shall find thee, 
And every string 

Shall have his attribute to sing. 

And having 1 tuned it, he played and sung : 

The Sundays of mans life, 
Threaded together on times string, 
Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
Of the eternal glorious King : 
On Sundays Heaven s door stands ope ; 
Blessings are plentiful and rife, 

More plentiful than hope. 

Thus he sung on earth such Hymns and Anthems, 
as the Angels, and he, and Mr. Farrer, now sing in 
Heaven. 

Thus he continued meditating, and praying, and 
rejoicing, till the day of his death 5 and on that day 
said to Mr. Woodnot, My dear friend,- 1 am sorry I 
have nothing to present to my merciful God but sin and 
misery ; but the first is pardoned, and a few hours will 
now put a period to the latter ; for I shall suddenly go 
hence, and be no more seen. Upon which expression 
Mr. Woodnot took occasion to remember him of the 
re-edifying Layton Church, and his many acts of 
mercy. To which he made answer, saying, They 



344 THE LIFE OF 

be good works, if they be sprinkled with the blood of 
Christ, and not otherwise. After this discourse he 
became more restless, and his soul seemed to be 
weary of her earthly tabernacle ; and this uneasi- 
ness became so visible, that his wife, his three 
nieces, and Mr. Woodnot, stood constantly about his 
bed, beholding him with sorrow, and an unwilling- 
ness to lose the sight of him, whom they could not 
hope to see much longer. As they stood thus be- 
holding him, his wife observed him to breathe 
faintly, and with much trouble, and observed him 
to fall into a sudden agony ; which so surprised 
her, that she fell into a sudden passion, and required 
of him to know how he did. To which his answer 
was, that he had passed a conflict with his last enemy, 
and had overcome him by the merits of his Master Jesus. 
After which answer, he looked up, and saw his wife 
and nieces weeping to an extremity, and charged 
them, if they loved him to withdraw into the next room, 
and there pray every one alone for him ,• for nothing 
but their lamentations could make his death uncomfort- 
able. To which request their sighs and tears would 
not suffer them to make any reply ; but they yielded 
him a sad obedience, leaving only with him Mr. 
Woodnot and Mr. Bostock. Immediately after they 
had left him, he said to Mr. Bostock, Pray, Sir, open 
that door, then look into that cabinet, in which you may 
easily find my last Will, and give it into my hand : 
which being done, Mr. Herbert delivered it into the 
hand of Mr. Woodnot, and said, My old friend, I here 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 345 

deliver you my last Will, in which you will find that I 
have made you sole Executor for the good of my wife 
and nieces ,• and I desire you to shew kindness to them, 
as they shall need it : I do not desire you to be just ; 
for I know you will be so for your own sake ; but I 
charge you, by the religion of our friendship, to be care- 
ful of them. And having obtained Mr. Woodnot's 
promise to be so, he said, I am now ready to die. 
After which words, he said, Lord, forsake me not 
now my strength faileth me; but grant me mercy for 
the merits of my Jesus. And now, Lord — Lord, now 
receive my soul. And with those words he breathed 
forth his divine soul, without any apparent disturb- 
ance, Mr. Woodnot and Mr. Bostock attending his 
last breath, and closing his eyes. 

Thus he lived, and thus he died, like a Saint, un- 
spotted of the world, fall of alms-deeds, full of 
humility, and all the examples of a virtuous life 5 
which I cannot conclude better, than with this 
borrowed observation : 

All must to their cold graves : 

But the religious actions of the just 

Smell sweet in death, and blossom in the dust. 

Mr. George Herbert's have done so to this, and 
will doubtless do so to succeeding generations. — I 
have but this to say more of him ; that if Andrew 
Melvin died before him, then George Herbert died 
without an enemy. I wish — if God shall be so 
pleased — that I may be so happy as to die like him. 

Iz. Wa. 
z z 



346 THE LIFE OF 

There is a debt justly due to the memory of Mr. Her- 
bert's virtuous Wife ; a part of which I will endeavour to 
pay, by a very short account of the remainder of her life, 
which shall follow. 

She continued his disconsolate widow about six years, 
bemoaning herself and complaining, that she had lost the 
delight of her eyes ; but more that she had lost the spi- 
ritual guide for her poor soul ; and would often say, O 
that I had, like holy Mary, the Mother of Jesus, trea- 
sured up all his sayings in my heart ! But since I have 
not been able to do that, I will labour to live like him, 
that where he now is I may be also. And she would often 
sa y y — a s the Prophet David for his son Absalom. — O that 
I had died for him ! Thus she continued mourning till 
time and conversation had so moderated her sorrows, that 
she became the happy wife of Sir Robert Cook, of High- 
nam, in the County of Gloucester, Knight. And though 
he put a high value on the excellent accomplishments of her 
mind and body, and was so like Mr. Herbert, as not to 
govern like a master, but as an affectionate husband; yet 
she would even to him often take occasion to mention the 
name of Mr. George Herbert, and say, that name must 
live in her memory till she put off mortality. By Sir 
Robert she had only one child, a daughter, whose parts and 
plentiful estate make her happy in this world, and her well 
using of them gives a fair testimony that she will be so in 
that which is to come. 

Mrs. Herbert was the wife of Sir Robert eight years, 
and lived his widow about fifteen ,* all which time she took 
a pleasure in mentioning and commending the excellencies 
of Mr. George Herbert. She died in the year 1653, and 
lies buried at Highnam ; Mr. Herbert in his own Church, 
under the Altar, and covered with a grave-stone without 
any inscription* 



MR. GEORGE HERBERT. 347 

This Lady Cook had preserved many of Mr. Herbert's 
private writings, which she intended to make public ; but 
they and Highnam House were burnt together by the late 
rebels, and so lost to posterity. I. W. 



Letter from Mr. George Herbert to Nicholas 
Farrer, the Translator o/'Valdesso. 

My dear and deserving brother, your Valdesso I now 
return with many thanks, and some notes, in which per- 
haps you will discover some care which I forbear not in 
the midst of my griefs ,• first for your sake, because I 
would do nothing negligently that you commit unto me : 
secondly for the Author's sake, whom I conceive to have 
been a true servant of God ; and to such, and all that is 
their's, I owe diligence : thirdly for the Church's sake, to 
whom by printing it, I would have you consecrate it. 
You owe the Church a debt, and God hath put this into 
your hands — as he sent the fish with money to St. Peter 
— to discharge it ; haply also with this — as his thoughts 
are fruitful — intending the honour of his servant the 
Author, who, being obscured in his own country, he would 
have to flourish in this land of light, and region of the 
Gospel among his chosen. It is true, there are some 
things which I like not in him, as my fragments will ex- 
press, when you read them : nevertheless, I wish you by 
all means to publish it, for these three eminent things ob- 
servable therein : First, that God in the midst of Popery, 
should open the eyes of one to understand and express 
so clearly and excellently, the intent of the Gospel in the 
acceptation of Christ's righteousness, — as he sheweth 
through all his Considerations, — a thing strangely buried 
and darkened by the adversaries, and their great stumbling 
block, Secondly, the great honour and reverence which 



348 LETTER TO NICHOLAS FARRER. 

he every where bears towards our dear Master and Lord ; 
concluding every Consideration almost with his holy name, 
and setting his merit forth so piously ; for which I do so 
love him, that were there nothing else, I would print it, 
that with it the honour of my Lord might be published. 
Thirdly, the many pious rules of ordering our life about 
mortification, and observation of God's kingdom within 
us, and the working thereof; of which he was a very 
diligent observer. These three things are very eminent 
in the Author, and overweigh the defects — as I conceive 
— towards the publishing thereof. 

From his Parsonage of 
Bemerton, near Salisbury, 
Sept. 29th, 1632. 








Engraved "by "W.BsLddou.. 



B 1 ?- lEo SAMB3imO(0)lT, 



LONDON, 
Pi£blish.ea."b7 Jotm. Majox. 50, Fleet Street, 



THE LIFE 



OF 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON, 



LATE BISHOP OF I ^NCv^LN. 




LONDON: 

JOHN MAJOR, 
MDCCCXXV. 



TO THE 

RIGHT REVEREND AND HONOURABLE, 

GEORGE 

LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, 

PRELATE OF THE GARTER, 
AND ONE OF 

his majesty's privy council. 



MY LORD, 

If I should undertake to enumerate, the many favours and 
advantages I have had by my very long acquaintance with 
your Lordship, I should enter upon an employment, that 
might prove as tedious as the collecting of the materials 
for this poor Monument, which I have erected, and do 
dedicate to the Memory of your beloved friend, Dr. San- 
derson : But though I will not venture to do that ; yet I 
do remember with pleasure, and remonstrate with grati- 
tude, that your Lordship made me known to him, Mr. 
Chillingworth, and Dr. Hammond; men, whose merits 
ought never to be forgotten. 

My friendship with the first was begun almost forty 
years past, when I was as far from a thought, as a desire 
to outlive him ; and farther from an intention to write his 
Life. But the wise Disposer of all men's lives and actions 
hath prolonged the first, and now permitted the last; 
which is here dedicated to your Lordship, — and, as it 
ought to be — with all humility, and a desire that it may 
remain as a public testimony of my gratitude. 

My Lord, 
Your most affectionate old friend, 
and most humble servant, 
IZAAK WALTON, 



THE 

PREFACE. 



I dare neither think, nor assure the Reader, that I have 
committed no mistakes in this relation of the Life of 
Dr. Sanderson; but I am sure, there is none that are 
either wilful, or very material. I confess, it was worthy 
the employment of some person of more Learning- and 
greater abilities than I can pretend to ; and I have not 
a little wondered that none have yet been so grateful to 
him and posterity, as to undertake it. For it may be 
noted, that our Saviour hath had such care, that, for 
Mary Magdalen's kindness to him, her name should never 
be forgotten : And doubtless Dr. Sanderson's meek and 
innocent life, his great and useful Learning, might there- 
fore challenge the like endeavours to preserve his me- 
mory : And 'tis to me a wonder, that it has been 
already fifteen years neglected. But, in saying this, my 
meaning is not to upbraid others, — I am far from that, — 
but excuse myself, or beg pardon for daring to attempt 
it. This being premised, I desire to tell the Reader, 
that in this relation I have been so bold, as to paraphrase 
and say, what I think he — whom I had the happiness to 
know well — would have said upon the same occasions : 
and if I have erred in this kind, and cannot now beg 
pardon of him that loved me ; yet I do of my Reader, 
from whom I desire the same favour. 

And, though my age might have procured me a Writ 
of Ease, and that secured me from all further trouble in 



THE PREFACE. 353 

this kind ; yet I met with such persuasions to begin, and 
so many willing informers since, and from them, and 
others, such helps and encouragements to proceed, that 
when I found myself faint, and weary of the burthen with 
which I had loaden myself, and ready to lay it down ; 
yet time and new strength hath at last brought it to be 
what it now is, and presented to the Reader, and with it 
this desire ; that he will take notice, that Dr. Sanderson 
did in his Will, or last sickness, advertise, that after his 
death nothing of his might be printed; because that 
might be said to be his, which indeed was not ; and also 
for that he might have changed his opinion since he first 
icrit it. And though these reasons ought to be regarded, 
yet regarded so, as he resolves in that Case of Conscience 
concerning Rash Vows; that there may appear very 
good second reasons, why we may forbear to perform 
them. However, for his said reasons, they ought to be 
read as we do Apocryphal Scripture; to explain, but 
not oblige us to so firm a belief of what is here presented 
as his. 

And I have this to say more ; That as, in my queries 
for writing Dr. Sande?'son's Life, I met with these little 
Tracts annexed ;* so, in my former queries for my in- 
formation to write the Life of venerable Mr. Hooker, I 
met with a Sermon, which I a>o believe was really his, 
and here presented as his to the Redder. It is affirmed, 
— and I have met with reason to believe it,— that there be 
some Artists, that do certainly know an original picture 
from a copy ; and in what age of the world, and by whom 

* Of the tracts here alluded to, a particular account will be 
given in a future publication, the nature and objects of which, 
are explained in the commencement of the Notes to the pre- 
sent volume. 

3 A 



354 



THE PREFACE. 



drawn. And if so, then I hope it may be as safely af- 
firmed, that what is here presented for their's is so like 
their temper of mind, their other writings, the times 
when, and the occasions upon which they were writ, that 
all Readers may safely conclude, they could be writ by 
none but venerable Mr. Hooker, and the humble and 
learned Dr. Sanderson. 

And lastly, I am now glad that I have collected these 
memoirs, which lay scattered, and contracted them into 
a narrower compass ; and if I have, by the pleasant toil 
of doing so, either pleased or profited any man, I have 
attained what I designed when I first undertook it. But 
I seriously wish, both for the Reader's and Dr. Sander- 
son's sake, that posterity had known his great Learning 
and Virtue by a better pen ; by such a pen, as could 
have made his life as immortal, as his Learning and merits 
ought to be. /. W. 





THE LIFE 



OF 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON, 



LATE LORD BISHOP OF LINCOLN. 



octor Robert Sanderson, the 
late learned Bishop of Lincoln, 
whose Life I intend to write with 
all truth and equal plainness, 
was born the nineteenth day of 
September in the year of our Re- 
demption 1587. The place of 
his birth was Rotherham in the 
County of York ; a Town of good note, and the 
more, for that Thomas Rotherham, some time Arch- 
bishop of that See, was born in it ; a man, whose 
great wisdom, and bounty, and sanctity of life, 
have made it the more memorable ; as indeed it 




356 THE LIFE OF 

it ought also to be, for being the birth place of our 
Robert Sanderson. And the Reader will be of my 
belief, if this humble relation of his life can hold 
any proportion with his great Piety, his useful 
Learning, and his many other extraordinary en- 
dowments. 

He was the second and youngest Son, of Robert 
Sanderson, of Gilthwaite'Hall, in the said Parish and 
County, Esq. by Elizabeth, one of the daughters of 
Richard Carr, of Butterthwaite-Hall, in the Parish of 
Ecclesfield, in the said County of York, Gentleman. 

This Robert Sanderson, the Father, was descended 
from a numerous, ancient, and honourable family of 
his own name : for the search of which truth, I 
refer my Reader, that inclines to it, to Dr. Thorn- 
ton's History of the Antiquities of Nottinghamshire, 
and other records 3 not thinking it necessary here 
to engage him into a search for bare titles, which 
are noted to have in them nothing of reality : for 
titles not acquired, but derived only, do but shew 
us who of our ancestors have, and how they have 
achieved that honour which their descendants claim, 
and may not be worthy to enjoy. For, if those 
titles descend to persons that degenerate into Vice, 
and break off the continued line of Learning, or 
Valour, or that Virtue that acquired them, they 
destroy the very foundation upon which that Honour 
was built -, and all the rubbish of their vices ought 
to fall heavy on such dishonourable heads ; ought 
to fall so heavy, as to degrade them of their titles, 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 357 

and blast their memories with reproach and 
shame. 

But our Robert Sanderson lived worthy of his 
name and family : of which one testimony may be, 
that Gilbert, called the Great Earl of Shrewsbury, 
thought him not unworthy to be joined with him 
as a Godfather to Gilbert Sheldon, the late Lord 
Archbishop of Canterbury ,• to whose merits and 
memory, posterity — the Clergy especially — ought 
to pay a reverence. 

But I return to my intended relation of Robert 
the Son, who began in his youth to make the 
Laws of God, and obedience to his parents, the 
rules of his life ; seeming even then to dedicate 
himself, and all his studies, to Piety and Virtue. 

And as he was inclined to this by that native 
goodness, with which the wise Disposer of all 
hearts had endowed his j so this calm, this quiet 
and happy temper of mind — his being mild, and 
averse to oppositions; — made the whole course of 
his life easy and grateful both to himself and 
others : and this blessed temper was maintained 
and improved by his prudent Father's good ex- 
ample -j and by frequent conversing with him, and 
scattering short apophthegms and little pleasant 
stories, and making useful applications of them, 
his son was in his infancy taught to abhor Vanity 
and Vice as monsters, and to discern the loveliness 
of Wisdom and Virtue -, and by these means, and 
God's concurring grace, his knowledge was so 



358 THE LIFE OF 

augmented, and his native goodness so confirmed, 
that all became so habitual, as it was not easy to 
determine whether Nature or Education were his 
teachers. 

And here let me tell the Reader, that these 

early beginnings of Virtue, were by God's assisting 

* Ph'l ' 6 S race > blessed with what St. Paul seemed 

to beg for his Philippians ,•* namely, That 

he, that had begun a good work in them, ivould finish 

it. And Almighty God did : for his whole life was 

so regular and innocent, that he might have said 

at his death — and with truth and comfort — what 

the same St. Paul said after to the same Philippians, 

when he advised them to walk as they 

had him for an example. \ 

And this goodness, of which I have spoken, 
seemed to increase as his years did j and with his 
goodness his Learning, the foundation of which 
was laid in the Grammar-school of Rotherham — that 
being one of those three that were founded and libe- 
rally endowed by the said great and good Bishop of 
that name. — And in this time of his being a Scholar 
there, he was observed to use an unwearied dili- 
gence to attain learning, and to have a seriousness 
beyond his age, and with it a more than common 
modesty ; and to be of so calm and obliging a be- 
haviour, that the Master and whole number of 
Scholars, loved him as one man. 

And in this love and amity he continued at that 
School till about the thirteenth year of his age; 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 359 

at which time his Father designed to improve his 
Grammar learning, by removing him from Rother- 
ham to one of the more noted Schools of Eton or 
Westminster ; and after a year's stay there, then to 
remove him thence to Oxford. But, as he went with 
him, he called on an old friend, a Minister of noted 
learning, and told him his intentions 5 and he, after 
many questions with his Son, received such answers 
from him, that he assured his Father, his Son was 
so perfect a Grammarian, that he had laid a good 
foundation to build any or all the Arts upon 5 and 
therefore advised him to shorten his journey, and 
leave him at Oxford. And his Father did so. 

His Father left him there to the sole care and 
manage of Dr. Kilbie, who was then Rector of Lin- 
coln College. And he, after some time, and trial of 
his manners and learning, thought fit to enter him 
of that College, and after to matriculate him in the 
University, which he did the first of July, 1603 ; 
but he was not chosen Fellow till the third of May, 
1606 3 at which time he had taken his degree of 
Bachelor of Arts : at the taking of which degree, 
his Tutor told the Rector, That his pupil Sanderson 
had a metaphysical brain, and a matchless memory ; 
and that he thought he had improved, or made the last 
so by an art of his own invention. And all the future 
employments of his life proved that his Tutor was 
not mistaken. I must here stop my Reader, and 
tell him, that this Dr. Kilbie was a man of so great 
learning and wisdom, and so excellent a critic in 



360 THE LIFE OF 

the Hebrew Tongue, that he was made Professor of 
it in this University; and was also so perfect a 
Grecian, that he was by King James appointed to 
be one of the Translators of the Bible j and that 
this Doctor and Mr. Sandei % son had frequent dis- 
courses, and loved as father and son. The Doctor 
was to ride a journey into Derbyshire, and took Mr. 
Sanderson to bear him company: and they going 
together on a Sunday with the Doctor's friend to 
that Parish Church where they then were, found the 
young Preacher to have no more discretion, than 
to waste a great part of the hour allotted for his 
Sermon in exceptions against the late Translation 
of several words, — not expecting such a hearer as 
Dr. Kilbie, — and shewed three reasons why a par- 
ticular word should have been otherwise translated. 
When Evening Prayer was ended, the Preacher 
was invited to the Doctor's friend's house ; where 
after some other conference, the Doctor told him, 
He might have preached more useful doctrine, and not 
have filled his auditor s ears with needless exceptions 
against the late Translation: and for that word, for 
which he offered to that poor congregation three reasons 
why it ought to have been translated as he said ; he and 
others had considered all them, and found thirteen more 
considerable reasons why it was translated as now 
printed : and told him, If his friend, then attending 
him, should prove guilty of such indiscretion, he should 
forfeit his favour. To which Mr. Sanderson said, He 
hoped he should not. And the Preacher was so 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 361 

ingenuous as to say, He would not justify himself. And 
so I return to Oxford. In the year 1608, — July the 
11th, — Mr. Sanderson was completed Master cf 
Arts. I am not ignorant, that for the attaining 
these dignities, the time was shorter than was 
then, or is now required -, but either his birth, or 
the well performance of some extraordinary ex- 
ercise, or some other merit, made him so : and the 
Reader is requested to believe that 'twas the last j 
and requested to believe also, that, if I be mistaken 
in the time, the College Records have misinformed 
me : but I hope they have not. 

In that year of 1608, he was — November the 7th 
— by his College chosen Reader of Logic in the 
House j which he performed so well, that he was 
chosen again the sixth of November, 1609. In the 
year 16 13, he was chosen Sub-Rector of the College, 
and the like for the year 1614, and chosen again 
to the same dignity and trust for the year 1616. 

In all which time and employments, his abilities 
and behaviour were such, as procured him both 
love and reverence from the whole Society ; there 
being no exception against him for any faults, but 
a sorrow for the infirmities of his being too timo- 
rous and bashful j both which were, God knows, 
so connatural, as they never left him. And I know 
not whether his lovers ought to wish they had ; 
for they proved so like the radical moisture in man's 
body, that they preserved the life of Virtue in his 
3 B 



362 THE LIFE OF 

soul, which by God's assisting grace never left 
him till this life put on immortality. Of which 
happy infirmities — if they may be so called — more 
hereafter. 

In the year 1614, he stood to be elected one of 
the Proctors for the University. And 'twas not to 
satisfy any ambition of his own, but to comply with 
the desire of the Rector and whole Society, of 
which he was a Member; who had not had a 
Proctor chosen out of their College for the space 
of sixty years; — namely, not from the year 1554, 
unto his standing ; — and they persuaded him, that 
if he would but stand for Proctor, his merits were 
so generally known, and he so well beloved, that 
'twas but appearing, and he would infallibly carry 
it against any opposers; and told him, That he 
would by that means recover a right or reputation that 
was seemingly dead to his College. By these, and other 
like persuasions, he yielded up his own reason to 
their's, and appeared to stand for Proctor. But 
that Election was carried on by so sudden and 
secret, and by so powerful a faction, that he missed 
it. Which when he understood, he professed 
seriously to his friends, That if he were troubled at 
the disappointment, it was for theirs, and not for his 
own sake : for he was far from any desire of such an 
employment, as must be managed with charge and 
trouble, and was too usually rewarded with hard cen- 
sures, or hatred, or both. 



BR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 363 

In the year following he was earnestly persuaded 
by Dr. Kilbie and others, to review the Logic Lec- 
tures which he had read some years past in his 
College ; and, that done, to methodise and print 
them, for the ease and public good of posterity. 
But though he had an averseness to appear pub- 
licly in print ; yet after many serious solicitations, 
and some second thoughts of his own, he laid 
aside his modesty, and promised he would ; and he 
did so in that year of 1615. And the book proved 
as his friends seemed to prophesy - } that is, of great 
and general use, whether we respect the Art or the 
Author. For Logic may be said to be an Art of 
right reasoning ,- an Art that undeceives men who 
take falsehood for truth ; enables men to pass a 
true judgment, and detect those fallacies, which in 
some men's understandings usurp the place of 
right reason. And how great a master our Author 
was in this art, will quickly appear from that clear- 
ness of method, argument, and demonstration, which 
is so conspicuous in all his other writings. He, 
who had attained to so great a dexterity in the use 
of reason himself, was best qualified to prescribe 
rules and directions for the instruction of others. 
And I am the more satisfied of the excellency and 
usefulness of this, his first public undertaking, by 
hearing that most Tutors in both Universities teach 
Dr. Sandersons Logic to their Pupils, as a founda- 
tion upon which they are to build their future 



364 THE LIFE OF 

studies in Philosophy. And, for a further confir- 
mation of my belief, the Reader may note, that 
since his Book of Logic was first printed, there 
has not been less than ten thousand sold : and that 
'tis like to continue both to discover truth, and 
to clear and confirm the reason of the unborn 
world. 

It will easily be believed that his former stand- 
ing for a Proctor's place, and being disappointed, 
must prove much displeasing to a man of his great 
wisdom and modesty, and create in him an averse- 
ness to run a second hazard of his credit and con- 
tent : and yet he was assured by Dr. Kilbie, and the 
Fellows of his own College, and most of those that 
had opposed him in the former Election, that his 
book of Logic had purchased for him such a belief 
of his learning and prudence, and his behaviour at 
the former Election had got for him so great and 
so general a love, that all his former opposers re- 
pented what they had done 5 and therefore per- 
suaded him to venture to stand a second time. 
And, upon these, and other like encouragements, 
he did again, but not without an inward unwilling- 
ness, yield up his own reason to their's, and pro- 
mised to stand. And he did so ; and was the tenth 
of April, 1616, chosen Senior Proctor for the year 
following j Mr. Charles Crooke of Christ Church 
being then chosen the Junior. 

In this year of his being Proctor, there happened 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. S65 

many . memorable accidents j namely, Dr. Robert 
Abbot, Master of Balliol College, and Regius Pro- 
fessor of Divinity, — who being elected or conse- 
crated Bishop of Sarum some months before, — was 
solemnly conducted out of Oxford towards his 
Diocese, by the Heads of all Houses, and the chief 
of all the University. And Dr. Prideaux succeeded 
him in the Professorship, in which he continued 
till the year 1642, — being then elected Bishop of 
Worcester, — and then our now Proctor, Mr. Sander- 
son, succeeded him in the Regius Professorship. 

And in this year Dr. Arthur Lake — then Warden 
of New College- — was advanced to the Bishopric of 
Bath and Wells : a man of whom I take myself 
bound in justice to say, that he has made the great 
trust committed to him, the chief care and whole 
business of his life. And one testimony of this 
proof may be, that he sate usually with his Chan- 
cellor in his Consistory, and at least advised, if not 
assisted, in most sentences for the punishing of 
such offenders as deserved Church-censures. And 
it may be noted, that, after a sentence for penance 
was pronounced, he did very rarely or never, allow 
of any commutation for the offence, but did usually 
see the sentence for penance executed ; and then 
as usually preached a Sermon of mortification and 
repentance, and did so apply them to the offenders, 
that then stood before him, as begot in them a 



366 THE LIFE OF 

devout contrition, and at least resolutions to amend 
their lives : and having done that, he would take 
them — though never so poor — to dinner with him, 
and use them friendly, and dismiss them with his 
blessing and persuasions to a virtuous life, and beg 
them to believe him. And his humility and charity, 
and other Christian excellencies, were all like this. 
Of all which the Reader may inform himself in his 
Life, truly writ, and printed before his Sermons. 

And in this year also, the very prudent and very 
wise Lord Ellesmere, who was so very long Lord 
Chancellor of England, and then of Oxford, resign- 
ing up the last, the Right honourable, and as mag- 
nificent, William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, was 
chosen to succeed him. 

And in this year our late King Charles the First 
— then Prince of Wales — came honourably attended 
to Oxford ; and having deliberately visited the 
University, the Schools, Colleges, and Libraries, he 
and his attendants were entertained with ceremonies 
and feasting suitable to their dignity and merits. 

And this year King James sent Letters to the 
University for the regulating their studies ; espe- 
cially of the young Divines : advising they should 
not rely on modern sums and systems, but study 
the Fathers and Councils, and the more primitive 
learning. And this advice was occasioned by the 
indiscreet inferences made by very many Preachers 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 367 

out of Mr. Calvin s doctrine concerning Predestina- 
tion, Universal Redemption, the Irresistibility of God's 
Grace, and of some other knotty points depending 
upon these ; points which many think were not, 
but by interpreters forced to be, Mr. Calvin s mean- 
ing ; of the truth or falsehood of which I pretend 
not to have an ability to judge ; my meaning in 
this relation, being only to acquaint the Reader with 
the occasion of the King's Letter. 

It may be observed, that the various accidents of 
this year did afford our Proctor large and laudable 
matter to dilate and discourse upon : and that 
though his office seemed, according to statute and 
custom, to require him to do so at his leaving it j 
yet he chose rather to pass them over with some 
very short observations, and present the governors, 
and his other hearers, with rules to keep up dis- 
cipline and order in the University ; which at that 
time was, either by defective Statutes, or want of 
the due execution of those that were good, grown 
to be extremely irregular. And in this year also, 
the magisterial part of the Proctor required more 
diligence, and was more difficult to be managed 
than formerly, by reason of a multiplicity of new 
Statutes, which begot much confusion ; some of 
which Statutes were then, and others suddenly 
after, put into an useful execution. And though 
these Statutes were not then made so perfectly 
useful as they were designed, till Archbishop Laud's 



368 THE LIFE OF 

time, — who assisted in the forming and promoting 
them 5 — yet our present Proctor made them as 
effectual as discretion and diligence could do : of 
which one example may seem worthy the noting j 
namely, that if in his night-walk he met with 
irregular Scholars absent from their Colleges at 
University hours, or disordered by drink, or in 
scandalous company, he did not use his power of 
punishing to an extremity ; but did usually take 
their names, and a promise to appear before him 
unsent for next morning : and when they did, con- 
vinced them, with such obligingness, and reason 
added to it, that they parted from him with such 
resolutions, as the man after God's own heart was 
possessed with, when he said, There is mercy with 
% thee, and therefore thou shalt be feared, Psal. cxxx. 4. 
And by this and a like behaviour to all men, he was 
so happy as to lay down this dangerous employ- 
ment, as but very few, if any, have done, even 
without an enemy. 

After his speech was ended, and he retired with 
a friend into a convenient privacy, he looked upon 
his friend with a more than common cheerfulness, 
and spake to him to this purpose : I look back upon 
my late employment with some content to myself and 
a great thankfulness to Almighty God, that he hath 
made me of a temper not apt to provoke the meanest of 
mankind, but rather to pass by infirmities, if noted; 
and in this employment I have had — God knows — many 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 369 

occasions to do both. And ivhen I consider, how many 
of a contrary temper are by sudden and small occasions 
transported and hurried by anger to commit such errors, 
as they in that passion could not foresee, and will in 
their more calm and deliberate thoughts upbraid, and 
require repentance : and consider, that though repent- 
ance secures us from the punishment of any sin, yet 
how much more comfortable it is to be innocent, than 
need pardon ; and consider, that errors against men, 
though pardoned both by God and them, do yet leave 
such anxious and upbraiding impressions in the memory, 
as abates of the offender s content : — when I consider 
all this, and that God hath of his goodness given me a 
temper that hath prevented me from running into such 
enormities, I remember my temper with joy and thank' 
fidness. And though I cannot say with David — I wish 
I could, — that therefore his praise shall always be in 
my mouth, Psal. xxxiv. 1 ; yet I hope, that by his 
grace, and that grace seconded by my endeavours, it 
shall never be blotted out of my memory ,• and I now 
beseech Almighty God that it never may. 

And here I must look back, and mention one 
passage more in his Proctorship, which is, that 
Gilbert Sheldon, the late Lord Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, was this year sent to Trinity College in that 
University ; and not long after his entrance there, 
a letter was sent after him from his god-father, — 
the father of our Proctor, —to let his son know it, 
and commend his godson to his acquaintance, and 
3 c 



370 THE LIFE OF 

to more than a common care of his behaviour ^ 
which proved a pleasing injunction to our Proctor^ 
who was so gladly obedient to his father's desire, 
that he some few days after sent his servitor to in- 
treat Mr. Sheldon to his chamber next morning. 
But it seems Mr. Sheldon having — like a young 
man as he was — run into some such irregularity 
as made him conscious he had transgressed his 
Statutes, did therefore apprehend the Proctor's in- 
vitation as an introduction to punishment -, the fear 
of which made his bed restless that night : but, at 
their meeting the next morning, that fear vanished 
immediately by the Proctor's cheerful countenance, 
and the freedom of their discourse of friends. And 
let me tell my Reader, that this first meeting 
proved the beginning of as spiritual a friendship as 
human nature is capable of 5 of a friendship free 
from all self- ends : and it continued to be so, till 
death forced a separation of it on earth 5 but it is 
now reunited in Heaven. 

And now, having given this account of his be- 
haviour, and the considerable accidents in his Proc- 
torship, I proceed to tell my Reader, that, this 
busy employment being ended, he preached his 
sermon for his Degree of Bachelor m Divinity in as 
elegant Latin, and as remarkable for the matter, as 
hath been preached in that University since that 
day. And having well performed his other ex- 
ercises for that Degree, he took it the nine and 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 371 

twentieth of May following, having been ordained 
Deacon and Priest in the year 1611, by John King, 




then Bishop of London, who had not long before 
been Dean of Christ Church, and then knew him so 
well, that he became his most affectionate friend. 
And in this year, being then about the twenty- ninth 
of his age, he took from the University a licence 
to preach. 

In the year 1618, he was by Sir Nicholas Sander- 
son, Lord Viscount Castleton, presented to the Rec- 
tory of Wibberton, not far from Boston, in the County 
of Lincoln, a living of very good value ; but it lay 



372 THE LIFE OF 

in so low and wet a part of that country as was 
inconsistent with his health. And health being 
— next to a good conscience — the greatest of God's 
blessings in this life, and requiring therefore of 
every man a care and diligence to preserve it, he, 
apprehending a danger of losing it, if he continued 
at Wibberton a second Winter, did therefore resign 
it back into the hands of his worthy kinsman and 
patron, about one year after his donation of it to 
him. 

And about this time of his resignation he was 
presented to the Rectory of Boothby Pannell, in the 
same County of Lincoln ; a town which has been 
made famous, and must continue to be famous, 
because Dr. Sanderson, the humble and learned Dr. 
Sanderson, was more than forty years Parson of 
Boothby Pannell, and from thence dated all or most 
of his matchless writings. 

To this living— which was of less value, but 
a purer air than Wibberton — he was presented by 
Thomas Harrington, of the same County, and Parish, 
Esq. who was a gentleman of a very ancient family, 
and of great use and esteem in his country during 
his whole life. And in this Boothby Pannell the 
meek and charitable Dr. Sanderson and his patron 
lived with an endearing, mutual, and comfortable 
friendship, till the death of the last put a period 
to it. 

About the time that he was made Parson of 
Boothby Pannell, he resigned his Fellowship of 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 373 

Lincoln College unto the then Rector and Fellows ; 
and his resignation is recorded in these words : 

Ego Robertus Sanderson perpetuus, &c. 

I Robert Sanderson, Fellow of the College of St. 
Mary's and All-Saints, commonly called Lincoln Col- 
lege, in the University of Oxford, do freely and 
willingly resign into the hands of the Rector and Fel- 
lows, all the right and title that I have in the said 
College, wishing to them and their successors all peace, 
and piety, and happiness, in the name of the Father, 
and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. 

May 6, 1619. Robert Sanderson. 

And not long after this resignation, he was by 
the then Bishop of York, or the King, sede vacante, 
made Prebend of the Collegiate Church of South- 
well in that Diocese 5 and shortly after of Lincoln, 
by the Bishop of that See. 

And being now resolved to set down his rest in 
a quiet privacy at Boothby Pannell, and looking back 
with some sadness upon his removal from his gene- 
ral acquaintance left in Oxford, and the peculiar 
pleasures of a University life 5 he could not but 
think the want of society would render this of a 
country Parson the more uncomfortable, by reason 
of that want of conversation j and therefore he did 
put on some faint purposes to marry. For he had 
considered, that though marriage be cumbered 
with more worldly care than a single life 5 yet a 



374 THE LIFE OF 

complying and a prudent wife changes those very 
cares into so mutual a content, as makes them 
become like the sufferings of St. Paul, Colos. i. 24, 
which he would not have wanted because they 
occasioned his rejoicing in them. And he, having well 
considered this, and observed the secret unutterable 
joys that children beget in parents, and the mutual 
pleasures and contented trouble of their daily care 
and constant endeavours to bring up those little 
images of themselves, so as to make them as happy 
as all those cares and endeavours can make them : 
he, having considered all this, the hopes of such 
happiness turned his faint purposes into a positive 
resolution to marry. And he was so happy as to 
obtain Anne, the daughter of Henry Nelson, Bachelor 
in Divinity, then Rector of Haugham, in the County 
of Lincoln, a man of noted worth and learning. 
And the Giver of all good things was so good to 
him, as to give him such a wife as was suitable to 
his own desires 5 a wife, that made his life happy 
by being always content when he was cheerful; 
that divided her joys with him, and abated of his 
sorrow, by bearing a part of that burden ; a wife, 
that demonstrated her affection by a cheerful 
obedience to all his desires, during the whole course 
of his life -, and at his death too, for she outlived 
him. 

And in this Boothby Pannell, he either found or 
made his parishioners peaceable, and complying 
with him in the decent and regular service of God. 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 375 

And thus his Parish, his patron, and he lived toge- 
ther in a religious love, and a contented quietness ; 
he not troubling their thoughts by preaching high 
and useless notions, but such plain truths as were 
necessary to be known, believed, and practised, in 
order to their salvation. And their assent to what 
he taught was testified by such a conformity to 
his doctrine, as declared they believed and loved 
him. For he would often say, That, without the 
last, the most evident truths — heard as from an enemy, 
or an evil liver — either are not, or are at least the less 
effectual; and do usually rather harden than convince 
the hearer. 

And this excellent man did not think his duty 
discharged by only reading the Church prayers, 
catechising, preaching, and administering the Sa- 
craments seasonably 5 but thought — if the Law or 
the Canons may seem to enjoin no more, — yet that 
God would require more, than the defective laws of 
man's making can or do enjoin 5 the performance 
of that inward law, which Almighty God hath im- 
printed in the conscience of all good Christians, 
and inclines those whom he loves to perform. He, 
considering this, did therefore become a law to 
himself, practising what his conscience told him 
was his duty, in reconciling differences, and pre- 
venting law- suits, both in his Parish and iii the 
neighbourhood. To which may be added his often 
visiting sick and disconsolate families, persuading 
them to patience, and raising them from dejection 



376 THE LIFE OF 

by his advice and cheerful discourse, and by adding 
his own alms, if there were any so poor as to need 
it 5 considering how acceptable it is to Almighty 
God, when we do as we are advised by St. Paul, 
Gal. vi. 2. help to bear one another's burden, either of 
sorrow or want : and what a comfort it will be, 
when the Searcher of all hearts shall call us to a 
strict account for that evil we have done, and the 
good we have omitted, to remember we have com- 
forted and been helpful to a dejected or distressed 
family. 

And that his practice was to do good, one ex- 
ample may be, that he met with a poor dejected 
neighbour, that complained he had taken a meadow, 
the rent of which was 91. a year ; and when the 
hay was made ready to be carried into his barn, 
several days constant rain had so raised the water, 
that a sudden flood carried all away, and his rich 
Landlord would bate him no rent ; and that unless he 
had half abated, he and seven children were utterly 
undone. It may be noted, that in this age there 
are a sort of people so unlike the God of Mercy, so 
void of the bowels of pity, that they love only 
themselves and children ; love them so, as not to 
be concerned, whether the rest of mankind waste 
their days in sorrow or shame ; people that are 
cursed with riches, and a mistake that nothing but 
riches can make them and their's happy. But it 
was not so with Dr. Sanderson; for he was con- 
cerned, and spoke comfortably to the poor dejected 




T. P. Stephanoff p: 



J.Romney; sculp 



tmie jpiLMAmmm, 



LONDON 
Paflishea "by Join. Major, 50, Heet 
May. 15^ 1825. 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 377 

man ; bade him go home and pray, and not load 
himself with sorrow, for he would go to his Land- 
lord next morning ; and if his Landlord would not 
abate what he desired, he and a friend would pay- 
it for him. 

To the Landlord he went the next day, and, in a 
conference, the Doctor presented to him the sad 
condition of his poor dejected Tenant j telling him 
how much God is pleased when men compassionate 
the poor : and told him, that though God loves sa- 
crifice, yet he loves mercy so much better, that he 
is pleased when called the God of Mercy. And told 
him, the riches he was possessed of were given 
him by that God of Mercy, who would not be pleased, 
if he, that had so much given, yea, and forgiven 
him too, should prove like the rich Steward in the 
Gospel, that took his fellow servant by the throat to 
make him pay the utmost farthing. This he told him : 
and told him, that the law of this nation — by 
which law he claims his rent — does not undertake 
to make men honest or merciful-, but does what it 
can to restrain men from being dishonest or unmer- 
ciful, and yet was defective in both : and that taking 
any rent from his poor Tenant, for what God suf- 
fered him not to enjoy, though the law allowed 
him to do so, yet if he did so, he was too like that 
rich Steward which he had mentioned to him ; and 
told him that riches so gotten, and added to his 
great estate, would, as Job says, prove like gravel in 
his teeth : would in time so corrode his conscience, 
3 D 



378 THE LIFE OF 

or become so nauseous when he lay upon his death- 
bed, that he would then labour to vomit it up, and 
not be able : and therefore advised him, being very 
rich, to make friends of his unrighteous Mammon, 
before that evil day come upon him : but however, 
neither for his own sake, nor for God's sake, to take 
any rent of his poor, dejected, sad Tenant j for that 
were to gain a temporal, and lose his eternal hap- 
piness. These, and other such reasons were urged 
with so grave and compassionate an earnestness, 
that the Landlord forgave his Tenant the whole 
rent. 

The Reader will easily believe that Dr. Sander- 
son, who was so meek and merciful, did suddenly 
and gladly carry this comfortable news to the de- 
jected Tenant j and we believe, that at the telling 
of it there was a mutual rejoicing. It was one of 
Job's boasts, that he had seen none perish for want of 
clothing : and that he had often made the heart of the 
widow to rejoice. Job xxxi. 19. And doubtless Dr. 
Sanderson might have made the same religious boast 
of this, and very many like occasions. But, since 
he did not, I rejoice that I have this just occasion 
to do it for him ; and that I can tell the Reader, I 
might tire myself and him, in telling how like the 
whole course of Dr. Sanderson's life, was to this 
which I have now related. 

Thus he went on in an obscure and quiet privacy, 
doing good daily both by word and by deed, as often 
as any occasion offered itself; yet not so obscurely, 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 379 

but that his very great learning, prudence, and piety, 
were much noted and valued by the Bishop of his 
Diocese, and by most of the Nobility and gentry of 
that County. By the first of which he was often 
summoned to preach many Visitation Sermons, and 
by the latter at many Assizes. Which Sermons, 
though they were much esteemed by them that 
procured, and were fit to judge them ; yet they 
were the less valued, because he read them, which 
he was forced to do ; for though he had an ex- 
traordinary memory, — even the art of it, — yet he 
had such an innate invincible fear and bashfulness, 
that his memory was wholly useless, as to the re- 
petition of his sermons as he had writ them ; which 
gave occasion to say, when they were first printed 
and exposed to censure, — which was in the year 
1632, — that the best Sermons that were ever read, 
were never preached. 

In this contented obscurity he continued, till the 
learned and good Archbishop Laud, who knew him 
well in Oxford, — for he was his contemporary there, 
— told the King, — 'twas the knowing and con- 
scientious King Charles the First, — that there was 
one Mr. Sanderson, an obscure country Minister, 
that was of such sincerity, and so excellent in all 
casuistical learning, that he desired his Majesty 
would make him his Chaplain. The King granted 
it most willingly, and gave the Bishop charge to 
hasten it, for he longed to discourse with a man 
that had dedicated his studies to that useful part of 



380 THE LIFE OF 

learning. The Bishop forgot not the King's desire, 
and Mr. Sanderson was made his Chaplain in Ordi- 
nary in November following, 1631. And when they 
became known to each other, the King did put 
many Cases of Conscience to him, and received 
from him such deliberate, safe, and clear solutions, 
as gave him great content in conversing with him : 
so that, at the end of his month's attendance, the 
King told him, he should long for the next November j 
for he resolved to have a more inward acquaintance with 
him, when that month and he returned. And when 
the month and he did return, the good King was 
never absent from his Sermons, and would usually 
say, I carry my ears to hear other preachers ; but I 
carry my conscience to hear Mr. Sanderson, and to 
act accordingly. And this ought not to be concealed 
from posterity, that the King thought what he 
spake : for he took him to be his adviser in that 
quiet part of his life, and he proved to be his com- 
forter in those days of his affliction, when he ap- 
prehended himself to^be in ^danger of death or de- 
posing. Of which more hereafter. 

In the first Parliament of this good King, — which 
was 1625, — he was chosen to be a Clerk of the 
Convocation for the Diocese of Lincoln; which I 
here mention, because about that time did arise 
many disputes about Predestination, and the many 
critical points that depend upon, or are interwoven 
in it -, occasioned as was said, by a disquisition of 
new principles of Mr. Calvin's, though others say 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 381 

they were before his time. But of these Dr. San- 
derson then drew up, for his own satisfaction, such 
a scheme — he called it Pax Ecclesice — as then gave 
himself, and hath since given others such satisfac- 
tion, that it still remains to be of great estimation 
among the most learned. He was also chosen 
Clerk of all the Convocations during that good 
King's reign. Which I here tell my Reader, be- 
cause I shall hereafter have occasion to mention 
that Convocation in 1640, the unhappy Long Par- 
liament, and some debates of the Predestination 
points as they have been since charitably handled 
betwixt him, the learned Dr. Hammond, and Dr. 
Pierce, the now Reverend Dean of Salisbury. 

In the year 1636, his Majesty, then in his pro- 
gress, took a fair occasion to visit Oxford, and to 
take an entertainment for two days for himself and 
honourable attendants ; which the Reader ought to 
believe was suitable to their dignities. But this is 
mentioned, because at the. King's coming thither, 
Dr. Sanderson did attend him, and was then — the 
31st of August — created Doctor of Divinity -, which 
honour had an addition to it, by having many of 
the Nobility of this nation then made Doctors and 
Masters of Arts with him : some of whose names 
shall be recorded and live with his, and none shall 
outlive it. First, Dr. Curie and Dr. Wren, who 
were then Bishops of Winton and of Norwich, — and 
had formerly taken their Degrees in Cambridge, 
were with him created Doctors of Divinity in his 



382 THE LIFE OF 

University. So was Meric the son of the learned 
Isaac Casaubon; and Prince Rupert, who still lives, 
the then Duke of Lenox, Earl of Hereford, Earl of 
Essex, of Berkshire, and very many others of noble 
birth — too many to be named — were then created 
Masters of Arts. 

Some years before the unhappy Long Parliament, 
this nation being then happy and in peace, — though 
inwardly sick of being well, — namely in the year 
1639, a discontented party of the Scots Church 
were zealously restless for another reformation of 
their Kirk-government 5 and to that end created a 
new Covenant, for the general taking of which 
they pretended to petition the King for his assent, 
and that he would enjoin the taking of it by all of 
that nation. But this petition was not to be pre- 
sented to him by a committee of eight or ten men 
of their fraternity ; but by so many thousands, and 
they so armed, as seemed to force an assent to what 
they seemed to request ; so that though forbidden 
by the King, yet they entered England, and in their 
heat of zeal took and plundered Newcastle, where 
the King was forced to meet them with an army : 
but upon a treaty and some concessions, he sent 
them back, — though not so rich as they intended, 
yet, — for that time, without bloodshed. But, Oh S 
this peace, and this Covenant, were but the fore- 
runners of war, and the many miseries that fol- 
lowed : for in the year following there were so 
many chosen into the Long Parliament, that were 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 383 

of a conjunct council with these very zealous and 
as factious reformers, as begot such a confusion by 
the several desires and designs in many of the 
Members of that Parliament, and at last in the very 
common people of this nation, that they were so 
lost by contrary designs, fears, and confusions, as 
to believe the Scots and their Covenant would re- 
store them to their former tranquillity. And to that 
end the Presbyterian party of this nation did again, 
in the year 1643, invite the Scotch Covenanters 
back into England : and hither they came marching 
with it gloriously upon their pikes and in their 
hats, with this motto ; For the Crown and Covenant 
of both Kingdoms. This I saw, and suffered by it. 
But when I look back upon the ruin of families, 
the bloodshed, the decay of common honesty, and 
how the former piety and plain dealing of this now 
sinful nation is turned into cruelty and cunning, I 
praise God that he prevented me from being of that 
party which helped to bring in this Covenant, and 
those sad confusions that have followed it. And 
I have been the bolder to say this of myself, because, 
in a sad discourse with Dr. Sanderson, I heard him 
make the like grateful acknowledgment. 

This digression is intended for the better infor- 
mation of the Reader in what will follow concern- 
ing Dr. Sanderson. And first, that the Covenanters 
of this nation, and their party in Parliament, made 
many exceptions against the Common Prayer and 
ceremonies of the Church, and seemed restless for 



384 THE LIFE OF 

a Reformation : and though their desires seemed 
not reasonable to the King, and the learned Dr. 
Laud, then Archbishop of Canterbury ,• yet, to quiet 
their consciences, and prevent future confusion, 
they did, in the year 1641, desire Dr. Sanderson to 
call two more of the Convocation to advise with 
him, and that he would then draw up some such 
safe alterations as he thought fit in the Service- 
book, and abate some of the ceremonies that were 
least material for satisfying their consciences : — 
and to this end they did meet together privately 
twice a week at the Dean of Westminster s house, 
for the space of three months or more. But not 
long after that time, when Dr. Sanderson had made 
the reformation ready for a view, the Church and 
State were both fallen into such a confusion, that 
Dr. Sanderson s model for reformation became then 
useless. Nevertheless, his reputation was such, 
that he was, in the year 1642, proposed by both 
Houses of Parliament to the King, then in Oxford, 
to be one of their trustees for the settling of Church- 
affairs, and was allowed of by the King to be so : 
but that treaty came to nothing. 

In the year 1643, the two Houses of Parliament 
took upon them to make an ordinance, and call an 
Assembly of Divines, to debate and settle some 
Church-controversies, of which many were very 
unfit to judge : in which Dr. Sanderson was also 
named, but did not appear ; I suppose for the 
same reason that many other worthy and learned 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 385 

men did forbear, the summons wanting the King's 
authority. And here I must look back, and tell the 
Reader, that in the year 1642, he was, July 21st, 
named by a more undoubted authority to a more 
noble employment, which was to be Professor Regius 
of Divinity in Oxford : but, though knowledge be said 
to puff up, yet his modesty and too mean an opinion 
of his great abilities, and some other real or pre- 
tended reasons, — expressed in his speech, when he 
first appeared in the chair, and since printed, — kept . 
him from entering into it till October, 1646. 

He did, for about a year's time, continue to read 
his matchless Lectures, which were first de Jura- 
mento 3 a point very difficult, and at that time very 
dangerous to be handled as it ought to be. But 
this learned man, as he was eminently furnished 
with abilities to satisfy the consciences of men upon 
that important subject ; so he wanted not courage 
to assert the true obligation of Oaths in a degene- 
rate age, when men had made perjury a main part 
of their religion. How much the learned world 
stands obliged to him for these, and his following 
Lectures de Conscientid, I shall not attempt to de- 
clare, as being very sensible that the best pens must 
needs fall short in the commendation of them : so 
that I shall only add, that they continue to this 
day, and will do for ever, as a complete standard 
for the resolution of the most material doubts in 
Casuistical Divinity. And therefore I proceed to 
tell the Reader, that about the time of his reading 
3 E 



386 THE LIFE OF 

those Lectures, — the King being then prisoner in 
the Isle of Wight, — the Parliament had sent the 
Covenant, the Negative Oath, and I know not what 
more, to be taken by the Doctor of the Chair, and 
all Heads of Houses ; and all other inferior Scho- 
lars, of what degree soever, were all to take these 
Oaths by a fixed day 5 and those that did not, to 
abandon their College, and the University too, 
within twenty-four hours after the beating of a 
drum 5 for if they remained longer, they were to 
be proceeded against as spies. 

Dr. Laud, then Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
Earl of Strafford, and many others, had been for- 
merly murdered by this wicked Parliament ; but 
the King yet was not : and the University had yet 
some faint hopes that in a Treaty then in being, or 
pretended to be suddenly, there might be such an 
agreement made between King and Parliament, 
that the Dissenters in the University might both 
preserve their consciences and subsistence which 
they then enjoyed by their Colleges. 

And being possessed of this mistaken hope, that 
the Parliament were not yet grown so merciless as 
not to allow manifest reason for their not submit- 
ting to the enjoined Oaths, the University appointed 
twenty delegates to meet, consider, and draw up a 
Manifesto to the Parliament, why they could not 
take those oaths but by violation of their con- 
sciences : and of these delegates Dr. Sheldon, — late 
Archbishop of Canterbury, — Dr. Hammond, Dr. San- 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 387 

derson, Dr. Morley, — now Bishop of Winchester, — 
and that most honest and as judicious Civil Lawyer, 
Dr. Zouch, were a part] the rest I cannot now 
name : but the whole number of the delegates 
requested Dr. Zouch to draw up the Law part, and 
give it to Dr. Sanderson : and he was requested to 
methodise and add what referred to reason and 
conscience, and put it into form. He yielded to 
their desires and did so. And then, after they had 
been read in a full Convocation, and allowed of, 
they were printed in Latin, that the Parliament's 
proceedings and the University's sufferings might 
be manifested to all nations : and the imposers 
of these oaths might repent, or answer them : but 
they were past the first 5 and for the latter, I might 
swear they neither can, nor ever will. And these 
Reasons were also suddenly turned into English by 
Dr. Sanderson, that those of these three king- 
doms might the better judge of the loyal party's 
sufferings. 

About this time the Independents — who were 
then grown to be the most powerful part of the 
army — had taken the King from a close to a more 
large imprisonment ; and, by their own pretences 
to liberty of conscience, were obliged to allow some- 
what of that to the King, who had, in the year 
1646, sent for Dr. Sanderson, Dr. Hammond, Dr. 
Sheldon, — the late Archbishop of Canterbury, — and 
Dr. Morley, — the now Bishop of Winchester, — to 
attend him, in order to advise with them, how far 



388 THE LIFE OF 

he might with a good conscience comply with the 
proposals of the Parliament for a peace in Church 
and State : but these, having been then denied him 
by the Presbyterian Parliament, were now allowed 
him by those in present power. And as those 
other Divines, so Dr. Sanderson gave his attendance 
on his Majesty also in the Isle of Wight, preached 
there before him, and had in that attendance many, 
both public and private, conferences with him, to 
his Majesty's great satisfaction. At which time he 
desired Dr. Sanderson, that, being the Parliament 
had proposed to him the abolishing of Episcopal 
Government in the Church, as inconsistent with 
Monarchy, that he would consider of it, and declare 
his judgment. He undertook to do so, and did it 5 
but it might not be printed till our King's happy 
Restoration, and then it was. And at Dr. Sander- 
son's taking his leave of his Majesty in his last at- 
tendance on him, the King requested him to betake 
himself to the writing Cases of Conscience for the good 
of posterity. To which his answer was, That he was 
now grown too old, and unfit to write Cases of Con- 
science. But the King was so bold with him as to 
say, It was the simplest answer he ever heard from Dr. 
Sanderson , for no young man was fit to be a judge, 
or write Cases of Conscience. And let me here take 
occasion to tell the Reader this truth, not com- 
monly known ; that in one of these conferences 
this conscientious King told Dr. Sanderson, or one 
of them that then waited with him, that the remem- 
brance of two errors did much afflict him, which were, 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 389 

his assent to the Earl of Strafford's death, and the 
abolishing Episcopacy in Scotland; and that if God 
ever restored him to be in peaceable possession of his 
Crown, he would demonstrate his repentance by a public 
confession, and a voluntary penance, — I think barefoot 
■—from the Tower of London, or Whitehall, to St. 
Paul's Church, and desire the people to intercede with 
God for his pardon. I am sure one of them that 
told it me, lives still, and will witness it. And it 
ought to be observed, that Dr. Sanderson s Lectures 
de Juramento were so approved and valued by the 
King, that in this time of his imprisonment and 
solitude he translated them into exact English, 
desiring Dr. Juxon. — then Bishop of London, — Dr. 
Hammond, and Sir Thomas Herbert, — who then at- 
tended him, — to compare them with the original. 
The last still lives, and has declared it, with some 
other of that King's excellencies, in a letter under 
his own hand, which was lately shewed me by Sir 
William Dugdale, King of Arms. The book was 
designed to be put into the King's Library at St. 
James's ; but, I doubt, not now to be found there. 
I thought the honour of the Author and the Trans- 
lator to be both so much concerned in this relation, 
that it ought not to be concealed from the Reader, 
and 'tis therefore here inserted. 

I now return to Dr. Sanderson in the Chair in 
Oxford ,• where they that complied no't in taking the 
Covenant, Negative Oath, and Parliament Ordinance 
for Church-discipline and worship, were under a 



390 THE LIFE OF 

sad and daily apprehension of expulsion : for the 
Visitors were daily expected, and both City and 
University full of soldiers, and a party of Presbyte- 
rian Divines, that were as greedy and ready to pos- 
sess, as the ignorant and ill-natured Visitors were 
to eject the Dissenters out of their Colleges and 
livelihoods : but, notwithstanding, Dr. Sanderson 
did still continue to read his Lecture, and did, to 
the very faces of those Presbyterian Divines and 
soldiers, read with so much reason, and with a 
calm fortitude make such applications, as, if they 
were not, they ought to have been ashamed, and 
begged pardon of God and him, and forborne to do 
what followed. But these thriving sinners were 
hardened ; and, as the visitors expelled the ortho- 
dox, they, without scruple or shame, possessed 
themselves of their Colleges ; so that, with the rest, 
Dr. Sanderson was in June, 1648, forced to pack up 
and be gone, and thank God he was not imprisoned, 
as Dr. Sheldon, Dr. Hammond, and others then were. 
I must now again look back to Oxford, and tell 
my Reader, that the year before this expulsion, 
when the University had denied this subscription, 
and apprehended the danger of that visitation which 
followed, they sent Dr. Morley, then Canon of Christ- 
Church, — -now Lord Bishop of Winchester, — and 
others, to petition the Parliament for recalling the 
injunction, or a mitigation of it, or accept of their 
reasons why they could not take the Oaths enjoined 
them ; and the petition was by Parliament referred 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 391 

to a committee to hear and report the reasons to 
the House, and a day set for hearing them. This 
done, Dr. Morley and the rest went to inform and 
fee Counsel, to plead their cause on the day ap- 
pointed ; but there had been so many committed 
for pleading, that none durst undertake it j for at 
this time the privileges of that Parliament were 
become a Noli me tangere, as sacred and useful to 
them, as traditions ever were, or are now, to the 
Church of Rome ; their number must never be 
known, and therefore not without danger to be 
meddled with. For which reason Dr. Morley was 
forced, for want of Counsel, to plead the Univer- 
sity's Reasons for non-compliance with the Par- 
liament's injunctions : and though this was done 
with great reason, and a boldness equal to the 
justice of his cause ; yet the effect of it was, but 
that he and the rest appearing with him were so 
fortunate, as to return to Oxford without commit- 
ment. This was some few days before the Visitors 
and more soldiers were sent down to drive the 
Dissenters out of the University. And one that 
was, at this time of Dr. Morley s pleading, a power- 
ful man in the Parliament, and of that committee, 
observing Dr. Morley s behaviour and reason, and 
inquiring of him and hearing a good report of his 
morals, was therefore willing to afford him a pe- 
culiar favour 5 and, that he might express it, sent 
for me that relate this story, and knew Dr. Morley 
well, and told me, he had such a love for Dr. Morley 



392 THE LIFE OF 

that knowing he would not take the Oaths, and must 
therefore be ejected his College, and leave Oxford 5 he 
desired I would therefore write to him to ride out of 
Oxford., when the Visitors came into it, and not return 
till they left it, and he should be sure then to return in 
safety ,• and that he should, without taking any Oath or 
other molestation, enjoy his Canon s place in his College, 
I did receive this intended kindness with a sudden 
gladness, because I was sure the party had a power, 
and as sure he meant to perform it, and did there- 
fore write the Doctor word : and his answer was, 
that I must not fail to return my friend, — who still 
lives — his humble and undissembled thanks, though he 
could not accept of his intended kindness ; for when the 
Dean, Dr. Gardner, Dr. Paine, Dr. Hammond, Dr. 
Sanderson, and all the rest of the College, were turned 
out, except Dr. Wall, he should take it to be, if not a 
sin, yet a shame, to be left behind with him only. Dr. 
Wall I knew, and will speak nothing of him, for he 
is dead. 

It may easily be imagined, with what a joyful 
willingness these self-loving reformers took pos- 
session of all vacant preferments, and with what 
reluctance others parted with their beloved Colleges 
and subsistence : but their consciences were dearer 
than their subsistence, and out they went ; the re- 
formers possessing them without shame or scruple : 
where I will leave these scruple-mongers, and make 
an account of the then present affairs of London, to 
be the next employment of my Reader's patience. 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 393 

And in London all the Bishop's houses were turned 
to be prisons, and they filled with Divines, that 
would not take the Covenant, or forbear reading 
Common Prayer, or that were accused for some 
faults like these. For it may be noted, that about 
this time the Parliament set out a Proclamation, to 
encourage all laymen that had occasion to complain 
of their Ministers for being troublesome or scan- 
dalous, or that conformed not to Orders of Parlia- 
ment, to make their complaint to a Committee for 
that purpose -, and the Minister, though a hundred 
miles from London, should appear there, and give 
satisfaction, or be sequestered ; — and you may be 
sure no Parish could want a covetous, or malicious, 
or cross-grained complainant ; — by which means 
all prisons in London, and in some other places, 
became the sad habitations of conforming Divines. 

And about this time the Bishop of Canterbury 
having been by an unknown law condemned to die, 
and the execution suspended for some days, many 
of the malicious citizens, fearing his pardon, shut 
up their shops, professing not to open them till 
justice was executed. This malice and madness is 
scarce credible ; but I saw it. 

The Bishops had been voted out of the House of 
Parliament, and some upon that occasion sent to 
the Tower j which made many Covenanters rejoice, 
and believe Mr. Brightman — who probably was a 
good and well-meaning man — to be inspired in his 
Comment on the Apocalypse, an abridgment of which 
3 F 



394 THE LIFE OF 

was now printed, and called Mr. Brightmans Reve- 
lation of the Revelation. And though he was grossly 
mistaken in other things, yet, because he had made 
the Churches of Geneva and Scotland, which had no 
Bishops, to be Philadelphia in the Apocalypse, the 
Angel that God loved; Rev. iii. 7-13, and the power 
of Prelacy to be Antichrist, the evil Angel, which 
the House of Commons had now so spewed up, as 
never to recover their dignity ; therefore did those 
Covenanters approve and applaud Mr. Brightman 
for discovering and foretelling the Bishops' down- 
fall ; so that they both railed at them, and rejoiced 
to buy good pennyworths of their lands, which 
their friends of the House of Commons did afford 
them, as a reward of their diligent assistance to pull 
them down. 

And the Bishops' power being now vacated, the 
common people were made so happy, as every 
Parish might choose their own Minister, and tell 
him when he did, and when he did not, preach 
true doctrine : and by this and like means, several 
Churches had several teachers, that prayed and 
preached for and against one another : and engaged 
their hearers to contend furiously for truths which 
they understood not -, some of which I shall men- 
tion in the discourse that follows. 

I have heard of two men, that in their discourse 
undertook to give a character of a third person -, 
and one concluded he was a very honest man, for 
he was beholden to him ; and the other, that he was 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 395 

not, for he was not beholden to him. And something 
like this was in the designs both of the Covenanters 
and Independents, the last of which were now grown 
both as numerous and as powerful as the former : 
for though they differed much in many principles, 
and preached against each other, one making it a 
sign of being in the state of grace, if we were but 
zealous for the Covenant ; and the other, that we 
ought to buy and sell by a measure, and to allow 
the same liberty of conscience to others, which we 
by Scripture claim to ourselves 5 and therefore not 
to force any to swear the Covenant contrary to their 
consciences, and lose both their livings and liber- 
ties too. Though these differed thus in their con- 
clusions, yet they both agreed in their practice to 
preach down Common Prayer, and get into the best 
sequestered livings ; and whatever became of the 
true owners, their wives and children, yet to con- 
tinue in them without the least scruple of con- 
science. 

They also made other strange observations of 
Election, Reprobation, and Free Will, and the other 
points dependent upon these ; such as the wisest of 
the common people were not fit to judge of : I am 
sure I am not ; though I must mention some of 
them historically in a more proper place, when I 
have brought my Reader with me to Dr. Sanderson 
at Boothby Pannell. 

And in the way thither I must tell him, that a 
very Covenanter, and a Scot too, that came into 



396 THE LIFE OF 

England with this unhappy Covenant, was got into 
a good sequestered living by the help of a Presby- 
terian Parish, which had got the true owner out. 
And this Scotch Presbyterian, being well settled in 
this good living, began to reform the Church- yard, 
by cutting down a large yew-tree, and some other 
trees that were an ornament to the place, and very 
often a shelter to the parishioners 5 who, excepting 
against him for so doing, were answered, That the 
trees were his, and 'twas lawful for every man to use 
his own, as he, and not as they thought fit. I have 
heard, but do not affirm it, that no action lies 
against him that is so wicked as to steal the wind- 
ing-sheet of a dead body after it is buried; and 
have heard the reason to be, because none were 
supposed to be so void of humanity - } *and that such 
a law would vilify that nation that would but sup- 
pose so vile a man to be born in it : nor would one 
suppose any man to do what this Covenanter did. 
And whether there were any law against him, I 
know not ; but pity the Parish the less for turning 
out their legal Minister. 

We have now overtaken Dr. Sanderson at Boothby 
Parish, where he hoped to have enjoyed himself, 
though in a poor, yet in a quiet and desired privacy 5 
but it proved otherwise : for all corners of the 
nation were filled with Covenanters, confusion, Com- 
mittee-men, and soldiers, serving each other to their 
several ends, of revenge, or power, or profit ; and 
these Committee-men and soldiers were most of 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 397 

them so possessed with this Covenant, that they 

became like those that were infected with that 

dreadful Plague of Athens ; the plague of which 

Plague was, that they by it became maliciously 

restless to get into company, and to joy, — so the 

Historian* saith, — when they had in- ^ _. 

J * Thucydides. 

fected others, even those of their most 

beloved or nearest friends or relations : and though 
there might be some of these Covenanters that 
were beguiled and meant well 5 yet such were the 
generality of them, and temper of the times, that 
you may be sure Dr. Sanderson, who though quiet 
and harmless, yet an eminent dissenter from them, 
could not live peaceably 5 nor did he ; for the 
soldiers would appear, and visibly disturb him in 
the Church when he read prayers, pretending to 
advise him how God was to be served most accep- 
tably : which he not approving, but continuing to 
observe order and decent behaviour in reading the 
Church-service, they forced his book from him, 
and tore it, expecting extemporary prayers. 

At this time he was advised by a Parliament man 
of power and note, that valued and loved him much, 
not to be strict in reading all the Common Prayer, 
but make some little variation, especially if the 
soldiers came to watch him j for then it might not be 
in the power of him and his other friends to secure 
him from taking the Covenant, or Sequestration : 
for which reasons he did vary somewhat from 
the strict rules of the Rubric. I will set down the 



398 THE LIFE OF 

very words of confession which he used, as I have 
it under his own hand ; and tell the Reader, that 
all his other variations were as little, and much 
like to this. 

HIS CONFESSION. 

Almighty God and merciful Father, we, thy un- 
worthy servants, do with shame and sorrow confess, that 
we have all our life long gone astray out of thy ways like 
lost sheep ; and that, by following too much the vain 
devices and desires of our own hearts, we have grievously 
offended against thy holy laws, both in thought, word, 
and deed ; we have many times left undone those good 
duties, which we might and ought to have done ; and 
we have many times done those evils, when we might 
have avoided them, which we ought not to have done. 
We confess, O Lord ! that there is no health at all, nor 
help in any creature to relieve us ; but all our hope is 
in thy mercy, whose justice we have by our sins so far 
provoked. Have mercy therefore upon us, O Lord ! 
have mercy upon us miserable offenders : spare us, good 
God, who confess our faults, that we perish not ; but, 
according to thy gracious promises declared unto man- 
kind in Christ Jesus our Lord, restore us upon our 
true repentance into thy grace and favour. And grant, 
most merciful Father ! for his sake, that we henceforth 
study to serve and please thee by leading a godly, 
righteous, and a sober life, to the glory of thy holy 
name, and the eternal comfort of our own souls, through 
Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 399 

In these disturbances of tearing his service-book, 
a neighbour came on a Sunday, after the Evening 
service was ended, to visit and condole with him 
for the affront offered by the soldiers. To whom 
he spake with a composed patience, and said ; God 
hath restored me to my desired privacy, with my wife 
and children ; where I hoped to have met with quietness, 
and it proves not so : but I will labour to be pleased, 
because God, on whom I depend, sees it is not Jit for 
me to be quiet. I praise him, that he hath by his grace 
prevented me, from making shipwreck of a good con- 
science to maintain me in a place of great reputation 
and profit : and though my condition be such, that I 
need the last, yet I submit ; for God did not send me 
into this world to do my own, but suffer his will, and I 
will obey it. Thus by a sublime depending on his 
wise, and powerful, and pitiful Creator, he did 
cheerfully submit to what God had appointed, 
justifying the truth of that doctrine which he had 
preached. 

About this time that excellent book of The King's 
Meditations in his Solitude was printed, and made 
public : and Dr. Sanderson was such a lover of the 
Author, and so desirous that the whole world 
should see the character of him in that book, and 
something of the cause for which they suffered, 
that he designed to turn it into Latin : but when 
he had done half of it most excellently, his friend 
Dr. Earle prevented him, by appearing to have done 
the whole very well before him. 



400 



THE LIFE OF 



About this time his dear and most intimate friend, 
the learned Dr. Hammond, came to enjoy a conver- 




sation and rest with him for some days ; and did 
so. And having formerly persuaded him to trust 
his excellent memory, and not read, but try to 
speak a sermon as he had writ it, Dr. Sanderson 
became so compliant, as to promise he would. And 
to that end they two went early the Sunday follow- 
ing to a neighbour Minister, and requested to ex- 
change a sermon ; and they did so. And at Dr. 
Sandersons going into the pulpit, he gave his ser- 
mon — which was a very short one — into the hand 
of Dr. Hammond, intending to preach it as it was 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 401 

writ : but before he had preached a third part, Dr. 
Hammond, — looking on his sermon as written — 
observed him to be out, and so lost as to the matter, 
that he also became afraid for him 5 for 'twas dis- 
cernible to many of the plain auditory. But when 
he had ended this short sermon, as they two walked 
homeward, Dr. Sanderson said with much earnest- 
ness, Good Doctor, give me my sermon ; and know, 
that neither you nor any man living, shall ever persuade 
me to preach again without my books. To which the 
reply was, Good Doctor, be not angry ; for if I ever 
persuade you to preach again without book, I will give 
you leave to burn all those that I am master of. 

Part of the occasion of Dr. Hammond's visit, was 
at this time to discourse with Dr. Sanderson about 
some opinions, in which, if they did not then, they 
had doubtless differed formerly; it was about those 
knotty points, which are by the learned called the 
Quinquarticular Controversy ; of which I shall pro- 
ceed, not to give any judgment, — I pretend not to 
that, —but some short historical account which 
shall follow. 

There had been, since the unhappy Covenant was 
brought and so generally taken in England, a li- 
berty given or taken by many Preachers — those of 
London especially — to preach and be too positive 
in the points of Universal Redemption, Predestination, 
and those other depending upon these. Some of 
which preached, That all men were, before they came 
into this world, so predestinated to salvation or damna- 
3 G 



402 THE LIFE OF 

Hon, that it was not in their power to sin so, as to lose 
the first, nor by their most diligent endeavour to avoid 
the latter. Others, That it was not so; because then 
God could not be said to grieve for the death of a sinner, 
when he himself had made him so by an inevitable de- 
cree, before he had so much as a being in this world ; 
affirming therefore, that man had some power left 
him to do the will of God, because he was advised to 
work out his salvation with fear and trembling; main- 
taining, that it is most certain every man can do what 
he can to be saved ; and that he that does what he can 
to be saved, shall never be damned. And yet many 
that affirmed this would confess, That that grace, 
which is but a persuasive offer, and left to us to receive 
or refuse, is not that grace which shall bring men to 
Heaven. Which truths, or untruths, or both, be 
they which they will, did upon these, or the like 
occasions, come to be searched into, and charitably 
debated betwixt Dr. Sanderson, Dr. Hammond, and 
Dr. Pierce, — the now Reverend Dean of Salisbury, — 
of which I shall proceed to give some account, but 
briefly. 

In the year 1648, the fifty-two London Ministers 
— then a fraternity of Sion College in that City — 
had in a printed Declaration aspersed Dr. Hammond 
most heinously, for that he had in his Practical Ca- 
techism affirmed, that our Saviour died for the sins of 
all mankind. To justify which truth, he presently 
makes a charitable reply — as 'tis now printed in 
his works. — After which there were many letters 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 403 

passed betwixt the said Dr. Hammond, Dr. Sander- 
son, and Dr. Pierce, concerning God's grace and 
decrees. Dr. Sanderson was with much unwilling- 
ness drawn into this debate ; for he declared it 
would prove uneasy to him, who in his judgment 
of God's decrees differed with Dr. Hammond, — 
whom he reverenced and loved dearly, — and would 
not therefore engage him into a controversy, of 
which he could never hope to see an end : but they 
did all enter into a charitable disquisition of these 
said points in several letters, to the full satisfaction 
of the learned j those betwixt Dr. Sanderson and Dr. 
Hammond being printed in his works ; and for what 
passed betwixt him and the learned Dr. Pierce, I 
refer my Reader to a Letter annexed to the end 
of this relation * 

I think the judgment of Dr. Sanderson, was, by 
these debates, altered from what it was at his en- 
trance into them ^ for in the year 1632, when his 
excellent Sermons were first printed in quarto, the 
Reader may on the margin find some accusation of 
Arminius for false doctrine ; and find that, upon a 
review and reprinting those Sermons in folio, in the 
year 1657, that accusation of Arminius is omitted. 
And the change of his judgment seems more fully 
to appear in his said letter to Dr. Pierce. And let 
me now tell the Reader, which may seem to be 
perplexed with these several affirmations of God's 

* This Letter will also be found inserted in the volume 
already mentioned on page 353. 



404 THE LIFE OF 

decrees before mentioned, that Dr. Hammond, in a 
postscript to the last letter of Dr. Sanderson s, says, 
God can reconcile his own contradictions, and therefore 
advises all men, as the Apostle does, to study mortification, 
and be wise to sobriety. And let me add further, that 
if these fifty-two Ministers of Sion College were the 
occasion of the debates in these letters, they have, 
I think, been the occasion of giving an end to the 
Quinquarticular Controversy; for none have since 
undertaken to say more 5 but seem to be so wise, 
as to be content to be ignorant of the rest, till they 
come to that place, where the secrets of all hearts 
shall be laid open. And let me here tell the Reader 
also, that if the rest of mankind would, as Dr. San- 
derson, not conceal their alteration of judgment, but 
confess it to the honour of God and themselves, 
then our nation would become freer from pertina- 
cious disputes, and fuller of recantations. 

I cannot lead my Reader to Dr. Hammond and 
Dr. Sanderson, where we left them at Boothby Pan- 
nell, till I have looked back to the Long Parliament, 
the Society of Covenanters in Sion College, and 
those others scattered up and down in London, and 
given some account of their proceedings and usage 
of the late learned Dr. Laud, then Archbishop of 
Canterbury. And though I will forbear to mention 
the injustice of his death, and the barbarous usage 
of him, both then and before it 3 yet my desire is 
that what follows may be noted, because it does 
now, or may hereafter, concern us 5 namely, that 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 405 

in his last sad sermon on the scaffold at his death, 
he having freely pardoned all his enemies, and 
humbly begged of God to pardon them, and be- 
sought those present to pardon and pray for him j 
yet he seemed to accuse the magistrates of the 
City, for suffering a sort of wVetched people, that 
could not know why he was condemned, to go 
visibly up and down to gather hands to a petition, 
that the Parliament would hasten his execution. And 
having declared how unjustly he thought himself 
to be condemned, and accused for endeavouring to 
bring in Popery, — for that was one of the accusa- 
tions for which he died, — he declared with sadness, 
That the several sects and divisions then in England — 
which he had laboured to prevent, — were like to bring 
the Pope afar greater harvest, than he could ever have 
expected without them. And said, These sects and 
divisions introduce prqfaneness under the cloak of an 
imaginary Religion; and that we have lost the sub- 
stance of Religion by changing it into opinion; and that 
by these means this Church, which all the Jesuits' ma- 
chinations could not ruin, was fallen into -apparent 
danger by those which were his accusers. To this pur- 
pose he spoke at his death : for this, and more of 
which, the Reader may view his last sad sermon 
on the scaffold. And it is here mentioned, because 
his dear friend Dr. Sanderson } seems to demonstrate 
the same in his two large and remarkable Prefaces 
before his two volumes of Sermons 5 and he seems 
also with much sorrow to say the same again in 



406 THE LIFE OF 

his last Will, made when he apprehended himself 
to be very near his death. And these Covenanters 
ought to take notice of it, and to remember, that, 
by the late wicked war begun by them, Dr. San- 
derson was ejected out of the Professor's Chair in 
Oxford; and that if he had continued in it, — for he 
lived fourteen years after, — both the learned of 
this, and other nations, had been made happy by 
many remarkable Cases of Conscience, so rationally 
stated, and so briefly, so clearly, and so convincingly 
determined, that posterity might have joyed and 
boasted, that Dr. Sanderson was born in this nation, 
for the ease and benefit of all the learned that 
shall be born after him : but this benefit is so 
like time past, that they are both irrecoverably 
lost. 

I should now return to Boothby Pannell, where 
we left Dr. Hammond and Dr. Sanderson together - 7 
but neither can be found there : for the first was 
in his journey to London, and the second seized 
upon the day after his friend's departure, and 
carried prisoner to Lincoln, then a garrison of the 
Parliament's. For the pretended reason of which 
commitment, I shall give this following account. 

There was one Mr. Clarke, the Minister of Aling- 
ton, a town not many miles from Boothby Pannell, 
who was an active man for the Parliament and 
Covenant ; one that, when Belvoir Castle — then a 
garrison for the Parliament — was taken by a party 
of the King's soldiers, was taken in it, and made a 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 407 

prisoner of war in Newark, then a garrison of the 
King's ; a man so active and useful for his party, 
that they became so much concerned for his en- 
largement., that the Committee of Lincoln sent a 
troop of horse to seize and bring Dr. Sanderson a 
prisoner to that garrison : and they did so. And 
there he had the happiness to meet with many, that 
knew him so well as to treat him kindly ; but told 
him, He must continue their prisoner, till he should 
purchase his own enlargement by procuring an exchange 
for Mr. Clarke, then prisoner in the King's garrison of 
Newark. There were many reasons given by the 
Doctor of the injustice of his imprisonment, and 
the inequality of the exchange ; but all were in- 
effectual ; for done it must be, or he continue a 
prisoner. And in time done it was, upon the follow- 
ing conditions. 

First, that Dr. Sanderson and Mr. Clarke being 
exchanged, should live undisturbed at their own 
Parishes 3 and if either were injured by the soldiers 
of the contrary party, the other, having notice of 
it, should procure him a redress, by having satis- 
faction made for his loss, or for any other injury ; 
or if not, he to be used in the same kind by the 
other party. Nevertheless, Dr. Sanderson could 
neither live safe nor quietly, being several times 
plundered, and once wounded in three places : but 
he, apprehending the remedy might turn to a more 
intolerable burden by impatience or complaining, 
forbore both 5 and possessed his soul in a contented 



408 THE LIFE OF 

quietness, without the least repining. But though 
he could not enjoy the safety he expected by this 
exchange, yet, by His providence that can bring 
good out of evil, it turned so much to his advan- 
tage, that whereas as his living had been sequestered 
from the year 1644, and continued to be so till this 
time of his imprisonment, he, by the Articles of War 
in this exchange for Mr. Clarke, procured his se- 
questration to be recalled, and by that means en- 
joyed a poor, but contented subsistence for himself, 
wife, and children, till the happy restoration of our 
King and Church. 

In this time of his poor, but contented privacy 
of life, his casuistical learning, peaceful moderation, 
and sincerity, became so remarkable, that there 
were many that applied themselves to him for re- 
solution in cases of conscience ; some known to 
him, many notj some requiring satisfaction by 
conference, others by letters ; so many, that his 
life became almost as restless as their minds 3 yet 
he denied no man : and if it be a truth which holy 
Mr. Herbert says, That all worldly joys seem less, when 
compared with shewing mercy or doing kindnesses ,• then 
doubtless Dr. Sanderson might have boasted for 
relieving so many restless and wounded con- 
sciences 5 which, as Solomon says, are a burden thai 
none can bear, though their fortitude may sustain their 
other infirmities : and if words cannot express the 
joy of a conscience relieved from such restless 
agonies ; then Dr. Sanderson might rejoice that so 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 409 

many were by him so clearly and conscientiously 
satisfied, for he denied none, and would often praise 
God for that ability, and as often for the occasion, 
and that God had inclined his heart to do it to the 
meanest of any of those poor, but precious souls, 
for which his Saviour vouchsafed to be crucified. 

Some of those very many cases that were re- 
solved by letters, have been preserved and printed 
for the benefit of posterity j as namely, 

1. Of the Sabbath. 

2. Marrying with a Recusant. 

3. Of unlawful love. 
A. Of a military life. 

5. Of Scandal. 

6. Of a bond taken in the King's name. 

7. Of the Engagement. 

8. Of a rash vow. 

But many more remain in private hands, of which 
one is of Simony ,• and I wish the world might see 
it, that it might undeceive some Patrons, who think 
they have discharged that great and dangerous 
trust, both to God and man, if they take no money 
for a living, though it may be parted with for other 
ends less justifiable. 

And in this time of his retirement, when the 
common people were amazed and grown giddy by 
the many falsehoods, and misapplications of truths 
3 H 



410 THE LIFE OF 

frequently vented in sermons ; when they wrested 
the Scripture by challenging God to be of their 
party, and called upon him in their prayers to pa- 
tronize their sacrilege and zealous frenzies 3 in this 
time he did so compassionate the generality of this 
misled nation, that though the times threatened 
danger, yet he then hazarded his safety by writing 
the large and bold Preface now extant before his 
last twenty Sermons ; — first printed in the year 
1655 3 — in which there was such strength of reason, 
with so powerful and clear convincing applications 
made to the Nonconformists, as being read by one 
of those dissenting brethren, who was possessed 
with such a spirit of contradiction, as being neither 
able to defend his error, nor yield to truth manifest, 
— his conscience having slept long and quietly in a 
good sequestered living, — was yet at the reading of 
it so awakened, that after a conflict with the reason 
he had met, and the damage he was to sustain if 
he consented to it, — and being still unwilling to be 
so convinced, as to lose by being over-reasoned, — 
he went in haste to the bookseller of whom it was 
bought, threatened him, and told him in anger, he 
had sold a book in which there was false Divinity ; and 
that the Preface had upbraided the Parliament, and 
many godly Ministers of that party, for unjust dealing. 
To which his reply was, — 'twas Tim, Garthwaite, — 
That 'twas not his trade to judge of true or false 
Divinity, but to print and sell books : and yet if he, or 



BR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 411 

any friend of his, would write an answer to it, and own 
it by setting his name to it, he would print the Answer, 
and promote the selling of it. 

About the time of his printing this excellent 
Preface, I met him accidentally in London, in sad- 
coloured clothes, and, God knows, far from being 
costly. The place of our meeting was near to Little 
Britain, where he had been to buy a book, which 
he then had in his hand. We had no inclination to 
part presently, and therefore turned to stand in a 
corner under a penthouse, — for it began to rain, — 
and immediately the wind rose, and the rain in- 
creased so much, that both became so inconvenient, 
as to force us into a cleanly house, where we had 
bread, cheese, ale, and a fire, for our money. This 
rain and wind were so obliging to me, as to force 
our stay there for at least an hour, to my great 
content and advantage ; for in that time he made 
to me many useful observations, with much clear- 
ness and conscientious freedom. I shall relate a 
part of them, in hope they may also turn to the 
advantage of my Reader. He seemed to lament, 
that the Parliament had taken upon them to abolish 
our Liturgy, to the scandal of so many devout and 
learned men, and the disgrace of those many mar- 
tyrs, who had sealed the truth and use of it with 
their blood : and that no Minister was now thought 
godly that did not decry it, and at least pretend to 
make better prayers ex tempore : and that they, and 
only they, that could do so, prayed by the Spirit, 



412 THE LIFE OF 

and were godly 3 though in their sermons they dis- 
puted, and evidently contradicted each other in 
their prayers. And as he did dislike this, so he did 
most highly commend the Common Prayer of the 
Church, saying, the Collects were the most passionate, 
proper, and most elegant expressions that any language 
ever afforded ; and that there was in them such piety, 
and so interwoven with instructions, that they taught us 
to know the power, the wisdom, the majesty, and mercy 
of God, and much of our duty both to him and our 
neighbour ; and that a congregation, behaving themselves 
reverently, and putting up to God these joint and known 
desires for pardon of sins, and praises for mercies re- 
ceived, could not but be more pleasing to God, than 
those raw, unpremeditated expressions, to which many 
of the hearers could not say, Amen. 

And he then commended to me the frequent use 
of the Psalter, or Psalms of David ; speaking to this 
purpose : That they were the treasury of Christian 
comfort, fitted for all persons and necessities ; able to 
raise the soul from dejection by the frequent mention of 
God's mercies to repentant sinners ; to stir up holy de- 
sires ; to increase joy ; to moderate sorrow ; to nourish 
hope, and teach us patience, by waiting God's leisure ; 
to beget a trust in the mercy, power, and providence of 
our Creator ; and to cause a resignation of ourselves to 
his will j and then, and not till then, to believe our- 
selves happy. This, he said, the Liturgy and Psalms 
taught us 5 and that by the frequent use of the last, 
they would not only prove to be our soul's comfort^ 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 413 

but would become so habitual, as to transform them 
into the image of his soul that composed them. 
After this manner he expressed himself concerning 
the Liturgy and Psalms ; and seemed to lament that 
this, which was the devotion of the more primitive 
times, should in common pulpits be turned into 
needless debates about Freewill, Election, and Repro- 
bation, of which, and many like questions, we may 
be safely ignorant, because Almighty God intends 
not to lead us to Heaven by hard questions, but by 
meekness and charity, and a frequent practice of 
devotion. 

And he seemed to lament very much, that, by 
the means of irregular and indiscreet preaching, the 
generality of the nation were possessed with such 
dangerous mistakes, as to think, they might be re- 
ligious first, and then just and merciful ; that they 
might sell their consciences, and yet have something left 
that was worth keeping ; that they might be sure they 
were elected, though their lives were visibly scandalous ; 
that to be cunning was to be wise ; that to be rich was 
to be happy, though their wealth was got without justice 
or mercy ; that to be busy in things they understood not, 
was no sin. These, and the like mistakes he la- 
mented much, and besought God to remove them, 
and restore us to that humility, sincerity, and single- 
heartedness, with which this nation was blessed, 
before the unhappy Covenant was brought into the 
nation, and every man preached and prayed what 
seemed best in his own eyes. And he tijen said to 



414 THE LIFE OF 

me, That the way to restore this nation to a more meek 
and Christian temper, was to have the body of Divinity 
— or so much of it as was needful to be known — -to be 
put into fifty -two Homilies or Sermons, of such a length 
as not to exceed a third, or fourth part of an hours 
reading ; and these needful points to be made so clear 
and plain, that those of a mean capacity might know 
what was necessary to be believed, and what God requires 
to be done ; and then some applications of trial and 
conviction : and these to be read every Sunday of the 
year, as infallibly as the blood circulates the body ; and 
then as certainly begun again, and continued the year 
following : and that this being done, it might probably 
abate the inordinate desire of knowing what we need 
not, and practising what we know and ought to do. 
This was the earnest desire of this prudent man. 
And Oh that Dr. Sanderson had undertaken it ! for 
then in all probability it would have proved effec- 
tual. 

At this happy time of enjoying his company and 
this discourse, he expressed a sorrow by saying to 
me, Oh that I had gone Chaplain to that excellently 
accomplished gentleman, your friend, Sir Henry Wot- 
ton ! which was once intended, when he first went 
Ambassador to the State of Venice : for by that em- 
ployment I had been forced into a necessity of conversing, 
not with him only, but with several men of several 
nations ; and might thereby have kept myself from my 
unmanly bashfulness, which has proved very troublesome, 
and not less inconvenient to me ; and which I now fear 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 415 

is become so habitual as never to leave me : and by that 
means I might also have known, or at least have had 
the satisfaction of seeing, one of the late miracles of 
general learning, prudence, and modesty, Sir Henry 
Wotton's dear friend, Padrio Faulo, ivho, the author 
of his life says, was born with a bashfulness as invincible 
as I have found my own to be : a man whose fame must 
never die, till virtue and learning shall become so use' 
less as not to be regarded. 

This was a part of the benefit I then had by that 
hour's conversation : and I gladly remember and 
mention it, as an argument of my happiness, and 
his great humility and condescension. I had also 
a like advantage by another happy conference with 
him, which I am desirous to impart in this place to 
the Reader. He lamented much, that in many 
Parishes, where the maintenance was not great, 
there was no Minister to officiate ; and that many 
of the best sequestered livings were possessed with 
such rigid Covenanters as denied the Sacrament to 
their parishioners, unless upon such conditions, and 
in such a manner, as they could not take it. This 
he mentioned with much sorrow, saying, The blessed 
Sacrament did, by way of preparation for it, give occa- 
sion to all conscientious receivers to examine the per- 
formance of their vows, since they received their last 
seal for the pardon of their sins past; and to examine 
and re-search their hearts, and make penitent reflections 
on their failings ; and, that done, to bewail them, and 
then make new vows or resolutions to obey all God's 



416 THE LIFE OF 

commands, and beg his grace to perform them. And 
this done, the Sacrament repairs the decays of grace, 
helps us to conquer infirmities, gives us grace to beg 
God's grace, and then gives us what we beg ; makes us 
still hunger and thirst after his righteousness, which we 
then receive, and being assisted with our endeavours, 
will still so dwell in us, as to become our satisfaction in 
this life, and our comfort on our last sick beds. The 
want of this blessed benefit he lamented much, and 
pitied their condition that desired, but could not 
obtain it. 

I hope I shall not disoblige my Reader, if I here 
enlarge into a further character of his person and 
temper. As first, that he was moderately tall : his 
behaviour had in it much of a plain comeliness, and 
very little, yet enough, of ceremony or courtship ; 
his looks and motion manifested affability and mild- 
ness,, and yet he had with these a calm, but so 
matchless a fortitude, as secured him from com- 
plying with any of those many Parliament injunc- 
tions, that interfered with a doubtful conscience. 
His learning was methodical and exact, his wisdom 
useful, his integrity visible, and his whole life so 
unspotted, that all ought to be preserved as copies 
for posterity to write after ; the Clergy especially, 
who with impure hands ought not to offer sacrifice 
to that God, whose pure eyes abhor iniquity. 

There was in his Sermons no improper rhetoric, 
nor such perplexed divisions, as may be said to 
be like too much light, that so dazzles the eyes, 



BR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 417 

that the sight becomes less perfect : but there was 
therein no want of useful matter, nor waste of 
words 5 and yet such clear distinctions as dispelled 
all confused notions, and made his hearers depart 
both wiser, and more confirmed in virtuous reso- 
lutions. 

His memory was so matchless and firm, as 'twas 
only overcome by his bashfulness ; for he alone, or 
to a friend, could repeat all the Odes of Horace, all 
Tullys Offices, and much of Juvenal and Persius, 
without book ; and would say, the repetition of one 
of the Odes of Horace to himself, was to him such 
music, as a lesson on the viol was to others, when they 
played it to themselves or friends. And though he was 
blest with a clearer judgment than other men, yet 
he was so distrustful of it, that he did over-consider 
of consequences, and would so delay and re-consider 
what to determine, that though none ever deter- 
mined better, yet, when the bell tolled for him to 
appear and read his Divinity Lectures in Oxford, 
and all the scholars attended to hear him, he had 
not then, or not till then, resolved and writ what 
he meant to determine ; so that that appeared to 
be a truth, which his old dear friend Dr. Sheldon 
would often say, namely, That his judgment was so 
much superior to his fancy, that whatsoever this sug- 
gested, that disliked and controlled; still considering, 
and re-considering, till his time was so wasted, that he 
was forced to write, not, probably, what was best, bu; 
what he thought last. And yet what he did then 
3 1 



418 THE LIFE OF 

read, appeared to all hearers to be so useful, clear, 
and satisfactory, as none ever determined with 
greater applause. These tiring and perplexing 
thoughts, begot in him an averseness to enter into 
the toil of considering and determining all casuis- 
tical points j because, during that time, they neither 
gave rest to his body or mind. But though he 
would not be always loaden with these knotty 
points and distinctions j yet the study of old re- 
cords, genealogies, and Heraldry, were a recreation, 
and so pleasing, that he would say they gave rest 
to his mind. Of the last of which I have seen two 
remarkable volumes 5 and the Reader needs neither 
to doubt their truth or exactness. 

And this humble man had so conquered all re- 
pining and ambitious thoughts, and with them all 
other unruly passions, that, if the accidents of the 
day proved to his danger or damage, yet he both 
began and ended it with an even and undisturbed 
quietness j always praising God that he had not 
withdrawn food and raiment from him and his 
poor family ; nor suffered him to violate his con- 
science for his safety, or to support himself or them 
in a more splendid or plentiful condition 5 and that 
he therefore resolved with David, That his praise 
should be always in his mouth. 

I have taken a content in giving my Reader this 
character of his person, his temper, and some of 
the accidents of his life past ; and more might be 
added of all : but I will with sorrow look forward 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 419 

to the sad days, in which so many good men suf- 
fered, about the year 1658, at which time Dr. San- 
derson was in a very low condition as to his estate : 
and in that time Mr. Robert Boyle — a gentleman of 
a very noble birth, and more eminent for his libe- 
rality, learning, and virtue, and of whom I would 
say much more, but that he still lives — having 
casually met with and read his Lectures de Jura- 
mento, to his great satisfaction, and being informed 
of Dr. Sandersons great innocence and sincerity, 
and that he and his family were brought into a low 
condition by his not complying with the Parlia- 
ment's injunctions, sent him by his dear friend Dr. 
Barlow — the now learned Bishop of Lincoln — 501. 
and with it a request and promise. The request 
was, that he would review the Lectures de Con- 
scientid, which he had read when he was Doctor of 
the Chair in Oxford, aud print them for the good of 
posterity ; — and this Dr. Sanderson did in the year 
1659. — And the promise was, that he would pay 
him that, or a greater sum if desired, during his 
life, to enable him to pay an Amanuensis, to ease 
him from the trouble of writing what he should 
conceive or dictate. For the more particular ac- 
count of which, I refer my Reader to a letter writ 
by the said Dr. Barlow, which I have annexed to 
the end of this relation.* 

Towards the end of this year, 1659, when the 

* This will also be found printed in the work mentioned on 
page 353. 



420 THE LIFE OF 

many mixed sects, and their creators and merciless 
protectors, had led or driven each other into a 
whirlpool of confusion -, when amazement and fear 
had seized them, and their accusing consciences 
gave them an inward and fearful intelligence, that 
the God which they had long served was now ready 
to pay them such wages, as he does always reward 
Witches with for their obeying him j when these 
wretches were come to foresee an end of their cruel 
reign j by our King's return ; and such sufferers as 
Dr. Sanderson — and with him many of the oppressed 
Clergy and others — could foresee the cloud of their 
afflictions would be dispersed by it ; then, in the 
beginning of the year following, the King was by 
God restored to us, and we to our known laws and 
liberties, and a general joy and peace seemed to 
breathe through the three nations. Then were the 
suffering Clergy freed from their sequestration, 
restored to their revenues, and to a liberty to adore, 
praise, and pray to God in such order as their con- 
sciences and oaths had formerly obliged them. 
And the Reader will easily believe, that Dr. Sander- 
son and his dejected family rejoiced to see this day, 
and be of this number. 

It ought to be considered — which I have often 
heard or read — that in the primitive times men of 
learning and virtue were usually sought for, and 
solicited to accept of Episcopal government, and 
often refused it. For they conscientiously con- 
sidered, that the office of a Bishop was made up of 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 421 

labour and care ; that they were trusted to be God's 
almoners of the Church's revenue, and double their 
care for the poor ; to live strictly themselves, and 
use all diligence to see that their family, officers, 
and Clergy did so ; and that the account of that 
stewardship, must, at the last dreadful day be made 
to the Searcher of all Hearts : and that in the pri- 
mitive times they were therefore timorous to un- 
dertake it. It may not be said, that Dr. Sanderson 
was accomplished with these, and all the other re- 
quisites required in a Bishop, so as to be able to 
answer them exactly : but it may be affirmed, as a 
good preparation, that he had at the age of seventy- 
three years — for he was so old at the King's return 
— fewer faults to be pardoned by God or man, than 
are apparent in others in these days, in which, God 
knows, we fall so short of that visible sanctity and 
zeal to God's glory, which was apparent in the 
days of primitive Christianity. This is mentioned 
by way of preparation to what I shall say more of 
Dr. Sanderson ; and namely, that, at the King's re- 
turn, Dr. Sheldon, the late prudent Bishop of Can- 
terbury, — than whom none knew, valued, or loved 
Dr. Sanderson more or better, — was by his Majesty 
made a chief trustee to commend to him fit men to 
supply the then vacant Bishoprics. And Dr. Shel- 
don knew none fitter than Dr. Sanderson, and there- 
therefore humbly desired the King that he would 
nominate him : and, that done, he did as humbly 
desire Dr. Sanderson that he would, for God's and 



422 THE LIFE OF 

the Church's sake, take that charge and care upon 
him. Dr. Sanderson had, if not an unwillingness, 
certainly no forwardness to undertake it j and would 
often say, he had not led himself, but his friend would 
now lead him into a temptation, which he had daily 
prayed against ; and besought God, if he did undertake 
it } so to assist him with his grace, that the example of 
his life, his cares and endeavours, might promote his 
glory, and help forward the salvation of others. 

This I have mentioned as a happy preparation to 
his Bishopric ; and am next to tell, that he was 
consecrated Bishop of Lincoln at Westminster, the 
28th of October, 1660. 

There was about this time a Christian care taken, 
that those whose consciences were, as they said, 
tender, and could not comply with the service and 
ceremonies of the Church, might have satisfaction 
given by a friendly debate betwixt a select number 
of them, and some like number of those that had 
been sufferers for the Church- service and ceremonies, 
and now restored to liberty $ of which last some 
were then preferred to power and dignity in the 
Church. And of these Bishop Sanderson was one, 
and then chose to be a moderator in that debate : 
and he performed his trust with much mildness, 
patience, and reason ', but all proved ineffectual : 
for there be some prepossessions like jealousies, 
which, though causeless, yet cannot be removed 
by reasons as apparent as demonstrations can make 
any truth. The place appointed for this debate 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 423 

was the Savoy in the Strand: and the points de- 
bated were, I think, many 5 some affirmed to be 
truth and reason, some denied to be either -, and 
these debates being then in words, proved to be so 
loose and perplexed as satisfied neither party. For 
sometime that which had been affirmed was im- 
mediately forgot or denied, and so no satisfaction 
given to either party. But that the debate might 
become more useful, it was therefore resolved, that 
the day following the desires and reasons of the 
Nonconformists should be given in writing, and they 
in writing receive answers from the conforming 
party. And though I neither now can, nor need to 
mention all the points debated, nor the names of 
the dissenting brethren 5 yet I am sure Mr. Baxter 
was one, and am sure what shall now follow was 
one of the points debated. 

Concerning a command of lawful superiors, what 
was sufficient to its being a lawful command 5 this 
proposition was brought by the conforming party. 

That command which commands an act in itself 
lawful, and no other act or circumstance unlawful, is 
not sinful. 

Mr. Baxter denied it for two reasons, which he 
gave in with his own hand in writing, thus : 

One was, Because that may be a sin per accidens, 
which is not so in itself, and may be unlawfully com- 
manded, though that accident be not in the' command. 
Another was, That it may be commanded under an 
unjust penalty. 



424 THE LIFE OF 

Again, this proposition being brought by the 
Conformists, That command which commandeth an 
act in itself lawful, and no other act whereby any unjust 
penalty is enjoined, nor any circumstance whence, per 
accidens, any sin is consequent which the commander 
ought to provide against, is not sinful. 

Mr. Baxter denied it for this reason, then given 
in with his own hand in writing thus -, Because the 
first act commanded may be per accidens unlawful, 
and be commanded by an unjust penalty, though no 
other act or circumstance commanded be such. 

Again, this proposition being brought by the Con- 
formists, That command which commandeth an act in 
itself lawful, and no other act whereby any unjust 
penalty is enjoined, nor any circumstance, whence directly, 
or per accidens, any sin is consequent, which the com- 
mander ought to provide against, hath in it all things 
requisite to the lawfulness of a command, and particu- 
larly cannot be guilty of commanding an act per acci- 
dens unlawful, nor of commanding an act under an 
unjust penalty. 

Mr. Baxter denied it upon the same reasons. 

Peter Gunning. 
John Pearson. 

These were then two of the disputants, still alive, 
and will attest this ; one being now Lord Bishop 
of Ely, and the other of Chester. And the last of 
them told me very lately, that one of the Dis- 
senters — which I could, but forbear to name — 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 425 

appeared to Dr. Sanderson to be so bold, so trouble- 
some, and so illogical in the dispute, as forced 
patient Dr. Sanderson — who was then Bishop of 
Lincoln, and a moderator with other Bishops — to 
say, with an unusual earnestness, That he had never 
met with a man of more pertinacious confidence, and less 
abilities, in all his conversation. 

But though this debate at the Savoy was ended 
without any great satisfaction to either party, yet 
both parties knew the desires, and understood the 
abilities, of the other, much better than before it.: 
and the late distressed Clergy, that were now re- 
stored to their former rights and power, did, at their 
next meeting in Convocation, contrive to give the 
dissenting party satisfaction by alteration, explana- 
tion, and addition to some part both of the Rubric 
and Common- Prayer, as also by adding some new 
necessary Collects, and a particular Collect of 
Thanksgiving. How many of those new Collects 
were worded by Dr. Sanderson, I cannot say -, but 
am sure the whole Convocation valued him so much, 
that he never undertook to speak to any point in 
question, but he was heard with great willingness 
and attention 3 and when any point in question was 
determined, the Convocation did usually desire him 
to word their intentions, and as usually approve and 
thank him. 

At this Convocation the Common Prayer was 
made more complete, by adding three new neces- 
sary Offices 5 which were, A Form of Humiliation for 
3 K 



426 THE LIFE OF 

the Murder of King Charles the Martyr ; A Thanks* 
giving for the Restoration of his Son our King ; and 
For the Baptizing of Persons of riper Age. I cannot 
say Dr. Sanderson did form, or word them all, but 
doubtless more than any single man of the Convo- 
cation ; and he did also, by desire of the Convoca- 
tion, alter and add to the forms of Prayers to be 
used at Sea — now taken into the Service-Book.— 
And it may be noted, that William, the now Right 
Reverend Bishop of Canterbury, was in these em- 
ployments diligently useful 5 especially in helping 
to rectify the Calendar and Rubric. And lastly, it 
may be noted, that, for the satisfying all the dis- 
senting brethren and others, the Convocation's 
reasons for the alterations and additions to the 
Liturgy were by them desired to be drawn up by 
Dr. Sanderson; which being done by him, and ap- 
proved by them, was appointed to be printed before 
the Liturgy, and may be known by this title. — 
The Preface-, and begins thus — It hath been the 
wisdom of the Church.- — 

I shall now follow him to his Bishopric, and de- 
clare a part of his behaviour in that busy and 
weighty employment. And first, that it was with 
such condescension and obligingness to the meanest 
of his Clergy, as to know and be known to them. 
And indeed he practised the like to all men of what 
degree soever, especially to his old neighbours or 
parishioners of Boothby Pannell, for there was all 
joy at his table, when they came to visit him : then 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 427 

they prayed for him, and he for them, with an un- 
feigned affection, 

I think it will not be denied, but that the care 
and toil required of a Bishop, may justly challenge 
the riches and revenue with which their predeces- 
sors had lawfully endowed them : and yet he sought 
not that so much, as doing good both to the present 
age and posterity} and he made this appear by 
what follows. 

The Bishop's chief house at Buckden, in the 




County of Huntingdon, the usual residence of his 
predecessors, — for it stands about the midst of his 
Diocese, — having been at his consecration a great 
part of it demolished, and what was left standing 
under a visible decay, was by him undertaken to be 
erected and repaired ; and it was performed with 
great speed, care, and charge. And to this may 
be added, that the King having by an Injunction 



423 THE LIFE OF 

commended to the care of the Bishops, Deans, and 
Prebends of all Cathedral Churches, the repair of 
them, their houses, and their augmentation of small 
Vicarages ; he, when he was repairing Buckden, did 
also augment the last, as fast as fines were paid 
for renewing leases : so fast, that a friend, taking 
notice of his bounty, was so bold as to advise him 
to remember he was under his first-fruits, and that he 
was old, and had a wife and children yet but meanly 
provided for, especially if his dignity were considered. 
To whom he made a mild and thankful answer, 
saying, It would not become a Christian Bishop to suffer 
those houses built by his predecessors to be ruined for 
want of repair ; and less justifiable to suffer any of 
those, that were called to so high a calling as to sacrifice 
at God's altar, to eat the bread of sorrow constantly, 
when he had a power by a small augmentation, to turn 
it into the bread of cheerfulness : and wished, that as 
this was, so it were also in his power to make all man- 
kind happy, for he desired nothing more. And for his 
wife and children, he hoped to leave them a competence, 
and in the hands of a God that would provide for all 
that kept innocence, and trusted his providence and pro- 
tection, which he had always found enough to make and 
keep him happy. 

There was in his Diocese a Minister of almost 
his age, that had been of Lincoln College when he 
left it, who visited him often, and always welcome, 
because he was a man of innocence and open- 
heartedness. This Minister asked the Bishop what 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 429 

books he studied most, when he laid the founda- 
tion of his great and clear learning. To which his 
answer was, that he declined reading many ; but 
what he did read were well chosen, and read so 
often, that he became very familiar with them ; 
and said, they were chiefly three, Aristotle s Rhetoric, 
Aquinas s Secunda Secundce, and Tully, but chiefly his 
Offices, which he had not read over less than twenty 
times, and could at this age say without book. 
And told him also, the learned Civilian Doctor 
Zouch — who died lately — had writ Elementa Juris- 
prudenticE, which was a book that he could also say 
without book 5 and that no wise man could read it 
too often, or love or commend too much 5 and told 
him these had been his toil : but for himself he 
always had a natural love to genealogies and He- 
raldry ; and that when his thoughts were harassed 
with any perplexed studies, he left off, and turned 
to them as a recreation : and that his very recrea- 
tion had made him so perfect in them, that he could, 
in a very short time, give an account of the descent, 
arms, and antiquity of any family of the Nobility or 
gentry of this nation. 

Before I give an account of Dr. Sandersons last 
sickness, I desire to tell the Reader that he was of 
a healthful constitution, cheerful and mild, of an 
even temper, very moderate in his diet, and had 
had little sickness, till some few years before his 
death ; but was then every winter punished with 
a diarrhcea, which left him not till warm weather 



430 THE LIFE OF 

returned and removed it : and this distemper did, 
as he grew older, seize him oftener, and continue 
longer with him. But though it weakened him, 
yet it made him rather indisposed than sick, and did 
no way disable him from studying — indeed too 
much. — In this decay of his strength, but not of 
his memory or reason, — for this distemper works 
not upon the understanding, — he made his last Will, 
of which I shall give some account for confirmation 
of what hath been said, and what I think convenient 
to be known, before I declare his death and burial. 
He did in his last Will, give an account of his 
faith and persuasion in point of Religion, and 
Church-government, in these very words : 

I, Robert Sanderson, Doctor of Divinity, an un- 
worthy Minister of Jesus Christ, and, by the providence 
of God, Bishop of Lincoln, being by the long conti- 
nuance of an habitual distemper brought to a great 
bodily weakness and faintness of spirits, but — by the 
great mercy of God — without any bodily pain other- 
wise, or decay of understanding, do make this my Will 
and Testament, — written all with my own hand, — re- 
voking all former Wills by me heretofore made, if any 
such shall be found. First, I commend my soul into 
the hands of Almighty God, as of a faithful Creator, 
which I humbly beseech him mercifully to accept, look- 
ing upon it, not as it is in itself, — infinitely polluted 
with sin, — but as it is redeemed and purged with the 
precious blood of his only beloved Son, and my most 



BR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 431 

sweet Saviour, Jesus Christ; in confidence of whose 
merits and mediation alone it is, that I cast myself upon 
the mercy of God for the pardon of my sins, and the 
hopes of eternal life. And here I do profess, that as I 
have lived, so I desire, and — by the grace of God — re- 
solve, to die in the communion of the Catholic Church of 
Christ, and a true son of the Church of England ; 
which, as it stands by law established, to be both in doc- 
trine and worship agreeable to the word of God, and in 
the most, and most material points of both, conformable 
to the faith and practice of the godly Churches of Christ 
in the primitive and purer times, I do firmly believe : 
led so to do, not so much from the force of custom and 
education, — to which the greatest part of mankind owe 
their particular different persuasions in point of Religion, 
— as upon the clear evidence of truth and reason, after 
a serious and impartial examination of the grounds, as 
well of Popery as Puritanism, according to that measure 
of understanding, and those opportunities which God 
hath afforded me : and herein I am abundantly satis- 
fed, that the schism which the Papists on the one hand, 
and the superstition which the Puritan on the other 
hand, lay to our charge, are very justly chargeable upon 
themselves respectively. Wherefore I humbly beseech 
Almighty God, the Father of mercies, to preserve the 
Church by his power and providence, in peace, truth, 
and godliness, evermore to the world's end : which doubt- 
less he will do, if the wickedness and security of a sinful 
people — and particularly those sins that are so rife, and 
seem daily to increase among us, of unthankfulness, 



432 THE LIFE OF 

riot, and sacrilege — do not tempt his patience to the 
contrary. And I also farther humbly beseech him, that 
it would please him to give unto our gracious Sovereign, 
the reverend Bishops, and the Parliament, timely to con- 
sider the great danger that visibly threatens this Church 
in point of Religion by the late great increase of Popery, 
and in point of revenue by sacrilegious inclosures ; and 
to provide such wholesome and effectual remedies, as 
may prevent the same before it be too late. 

And for a further manifestation of his humble 
thoughts and desires, they may appear to the Reader 
by another part of his Will which follows. 

As for my corruptible body, I bequeath it to the earth 
whence it was taken, to be decently buried in the Parish 
Church of Buckden, towards the upper end of the 
Chancel, upon the second, or — at the farthest — the third 
day after my decease ; and that with as little noise, 
pomp, and charge as may be, without the invitation of 
any person how near soever related unto me, other than 
the inhabitants of Buckden 5 without the unnecessary 
expence of escutcheons, gloves, ribbons, fyc. and without 
any blacks to be hung any where in or about the house 
or Church, other than a pulpit cloth, a hearse-cloth, 
and a mourning gown for the Preacher ■ whereof the 
former — after my body shall be interred— to be given 
to the Preacher of the Funeral Sermon, and the latter 
to the Curate of the Parish for the time being. And 
my will further is, that the Funeral Sermon be preached 
by my own household Chaplain, containing some whole- 
some discourse concerning Mortality, the Resurrection 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 433 

of the Dead, and the Last Judgment ; and that he shall 
have for his pains ol. upon condition, that he speak 
nothing at all concerning my person, either good or ill, 
other than I myself shall direct ; only signifying to the 
auditory that it was my express will to have it so. And 
it is my will, that no costly monument be erected for my 
memory, but only a fair flat marble stone to be laid over 
me, with this inscription in legible Roman characters, 

DEPOSITUM ROBERTI SANDERSON NUPER LINCOLNIENSIS 
EPISCOPI, QUI OBIIT ANNO DOMINI MDCLXII. ET ^ETATIS 
SILE SEPTUAGESIMO SEXTO, HIC REQUIESCIT IN SPE 

beat^s resurrectionis. This manner of burial, al- 
though I cannot but foresee it will prove unsatisfactory 
to sundry my nearest friends and relations, and be apt 
to be censured by others, as an evidence of my too much 
parsimony and narrowness of mind, as being altogether 
unusual, and not according to the mode of these times ; 
yet it is agreeable to the sense of my heart, and I do 
very much desire my Will may be carefully observed 
herein, hoping it may become exemplary to some or other : 
at least however testifying at my death — what I have so 
often earnestly professed in my life time — my utter dis- 
like of the flatteries commonly used in Funeral Sermons, 
and of the vast expenses otherwise laid out in Funeral 
solemnities and entertainments, with very little benefit to 
any ; which, if bestowed in pious and charitable works, 
might redound to the public or private benefit of many 
persons. 

I am next to tell, that he died the 29th of January, 
3 L 



434 THE LIFE OF 

1662 5 and that his body was buried in Buckden, the 
third day after his death ; and for the manner, 
that it was as far from ostentation as he desired it j 
and all the rest of his Will was as punctually per- 
formed. And when I have — to his just praise — told 
this truth, That he died far from being rich, I shall 
return back to visit, and give a farther account of 
him on his last sick-bed. 

His last Will — of which I have mentioned a part 
- — was made about three weeks before his death, 
about which time, finding his strength to decay by 
reason of his constant infirmity, and a consumptive 
cough added to it, he retired to his chamber, ex- 
pressing a desire to enjoy his last thoughts to him- 
self in private, without disturbance or care, especially 
of what might concern this world. And that none 
of his Clergy — which are more numerous than any 
other Bishop's — might suffer by his retirement, he 
did by commission impower his Chaplain, Mr. Pullin, 
with Episcopal power to give institutions to all 
livings or Church-preferments, during this his dis- 
ability to do it himself. In this time of his retire- 
ment he longed for his dissolution j and when some 
that loved him prayed for his recovery, if he at any 
time found any amendment, he seemed to be dis- 
pleased, by saying, His friends said their prayers back- 
ward for him : and that it was not his desire to live a 
useless life, and by filling up a place keep another out 
of it 3 that might do God and his Church service. He 
would often with much joy and thankfulness men- 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 435 

tion, That during his being a housekeeper — which was 
more than forty years — there had not been one buried 
out of his family , and that he was now like to be the 
first. He would also often mention with thankful- 
ness, That till he was three score years of age, he had 
never spent five shillings in law, nor — upon himself — 
so much in wine : and rejoiced much that he had so 
lived, as never to cause an hour's sorrow to his good 
father ; and hoped he should die without an enemy. 

He, in this retirement, had the Church prayers 
read in his chamber twice every day $ and at nine 
at night, some prayers read to him and a part of 
his family out of The Whole Duty of Man. As he 
was remarkably punctual and regular in all his 
studies and actions, so he used himself to be for 
his meals. And his dinner being appointed to be 
constantly ready at the ending of prayers, and he 
expecting and calling for it, was answered, It would 
be ready in a quarter of an hour. To which his re- 
ply was, A quarter of an hour ! Is a quarter of an 
hour nothing to a man that probably has not many 
hours to live ? And though he did live many hours 
after this, yet he lived not many days j for the day 
after — which was three days before his death — he 
was become so weak and weary of either motion or 
sitting, that he was content, or forced, to keep his 
bed : in which I desire he may rest, till I have 
given some account of his behaviour there, and 
immediately before it. 

The day before he took liis bed, — which was 



436 



THE LIFE OF 



three days before his death, — he, that he might 
receive a new assurance for the pardon of -his sins 
past, and be strengthened in his way to the New 
Jerusalem, took the blessed Sacrament of the Body 
and Blood of his and our blessed Jesus, from the 
hands of his Chaplain, Mr. Pullin, accompanied with 
his wife, children, and a friend, in as awful, humble, 
and ardent a manner, as outward reverence could 
express. After the praise and thanksgiving for it 
was ended, he spake to this purpose : Thou, God ! 
tookest me out of my mother s womb, and hast been the 
powerful protector of me to this present moment of my 
life: Thou hast neither forsaken me now I am become 
grey-headed, nor suffered me to forsake thee in the late 
days of temptation, and sacrifice my conscience for the 
preservation of my liberty or estate. It was by grace 
that I have stood, when others have fallen under my 
trials : and these mercies I now remember with joy and 
thankfulness ; and my hope and desire is, that I may 
die praising thee. 

The frequent repetition of the Psalms of David, 
hath been noted to be a great part of the devotion 
of the primitive Christians ; the Psalms having in 
them not only prayers and holy instructions, but 
such commemorations of God's mercies, as may 
preserve, comfort, and confirm our dependence on 
the power, and providence, and mercy of our 
Creator. And this is mentioned in order to telling, 
that as the holy Psalmist said, that his eyes should 
prevent both the dawning of the day and night watches, 



DR. ROBERT SANDERSON. 437 

by meditating on God's word; Psal. cxix. 147. so it 
was Dr. Sandersons, constant practice every morn- 
ing to entertain his first waking thoughts with a 
repetition of those very Psalms that the Church 
hath appointed to be constantly read in the daily 
Morning service : and having at night laid him in 
his bed, he as constantly closed his eyes with a re- 
petition of those appointed for the service of the 
evening, remembering and repeating the very Psalms 
appointed for every day ; and as the month had 
formerly ended and began again, so did this exer- 
cise of his devotion. And if his first waking 
thoughts were of the world, or what concerned it, 
he would arraign and condemn himself for it. Thus 
he began that work on earth, which is now his 
employment in Heaven. 

After his taking his bed, and about a day before 
his death, he desired his Chaplain, Mr. Pullin, to 
give him absolution : and at his performing that 
office, he pulled off his cap, that Mr. Pullin might 
lay his hand upon his bare head. After this desire 
of his was satisfied, his body seemed to be at more 
ease, and his mind more cheerful ; and he said, 
Lord, forsake me not now my strength faileth me ; but 
continue thy mercy, and let my mouth be filled with thy 
praise. He continued the remaining night and day 
very patient, and thankful for any of the little 
offices that were performed for his ease and refresh - 
ment j and during that time did often say the 1 03rd 
Psalm to himself, and very often these words, My 
heart is fixed, God ! my heart is fixed where true joy 



438 



THE LIFE, &c. 



is to be found. His thoughts seemed now to be 
wholly of death, for which he was so prepared, that 
the King of Terrors could not surprise him as a thief 
in the night : for he had often said, he was prepared, 
and longed for it. And as this desire seemed to come 
from Heaven, so it left him not till his soul ascended 
to that region of blessed spirits, whose employ- 
ments are to join in concert with him, and sing 
praise and glory to that God, who hath brought 
them to that place, into which sin and sorrow cannot 
enter. 

Thus this pattern of meekness and primitive inno- 
cence changed this for a better life. 'Tis now too 
late to wish that my life may be like his j for I am 
in the eighty-fifth year of my age : but I humbly 
beseech Almighty God, that my death may 5 and 
do as earnestly beg of every Reader, to say — Amen. 

Blessed is the man in whose spirit there is no guile, 
Psal. xxxii. 2. 





ORIGINAL AND SELECTED 

NOTES, 

ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE PRECEDING LIVES. 

In conformity with the plan adopted in the recent edition 
of the Complete Angler, to which a list of the Authori- 
ties, probably consulted by Walton, was attached for the 
first time, a similar catalogue will be found to precede 
the ensuing Notes. In the present instance too, as in the 
former, the principal various readings have been pointed 
out as they occur in the texts of the several impressions of 
these Lives, published in the Author's life-time; since they 
were but little less progressive, than were the editions 
of the Complete Angler. Indeed, from the statements 
which Walton himself has attached to them, — either in 
their respective Introductions, or in those Advertise- 
ments to the Reader, which are to be found in the earlier 



440 



NOTES. 



impressions only, — it was impossible for him to perfect 
all his enquiries and collections upon the first appearance 
of each Memoir; for of some he observes, that the 
Printer took away the manuscript in fragments, as fast 
as it could be written, and in others he promises, in a 
new edition, to amend his first defects, and supply his 
original deficiences. Of these future editions, he ex- 
presses himself with the same modesty which charac- 
terised his Preface to the Complete Angler. " I here 
promise," says he, in the Address to the Reader originally 
prefixed to the Life of Hooker, " to acknowledge and 
rectify any such mistake in a second impression, which 
the Printer says he hopes for ; and by this means my 
weak, but faithful endeavours, may become a better mo- 
nument, and in some degree more worthy the memory of 
this venerable man." Having thus premised that a col- 
lation of these several editions was essential, that it has 
been performed, and that some of the principal variations 
are hereafter introduced to the Reader, who may not 
possess the same sources of comparison, — it is not in- 
tended in the present volume to enter into any bibliogra- 
phical account of them, farther than to observe for his 
general guidance, that they appeared in about the fol- 
lowing order. 

Life of Dr. Bonne, originally prefixed to the first 
volume of his Sermons, 1640, Fol. Second Edition, alone, 
1658, 12mo. Life of Sir Henry Wotton, attached to the 
Reliquiae Wottonianse, 1651, 12mo. other editions 1654, 
1672, 1685. Life of Richard Hooker, First Edition, 1665, 
small octavo ; Second ditto, attached to the Ecclesiasti- 
cal Polity, 1666, Folio. Life of George Herbert, First 
Edition, with his Letters, 1670, 12mo. ; the Memoir was 
afterwards attached to his Temple, Poems, &c. in the 



NOTES. 441 

edition of 16/9. Life of Dr. Robert Sanderson, the first 
separate edition by Walton, was printed in Octavo, in 
1678, together with several of the Prelate's Tracts, Cases 
of Conscience, a Sermon by Hooker, and two Letters on 
the subject of the Memoir. Of Collections of the first 
four of these Lives, there were four editions ; the first of 
which was published in 16/0, and the last in 1675, both 
in Octavo. The latter of these has been used for re- 
vising the text of the foregoing pages ; and the Publisher 
has been kindly favoured by Mr. William Upcott of the 
London Institution, with the use of a Presentation copy 
of it, having all the typographical errors corrected by 
Walton's own pen ; whilst upon the fly-leaf is written, 
" Ffor my Cozen M ris . Wiliams, Iz. Wa." The Pub- 
lisher has also to acknowledge the kindness of Francis 
Martin, Esq. Windsor Herald, and Joseph Haslewood, 
Esq. ; the former for the favour of a copy of Walton's 
first edition of his collected Memoirs, and the latter 
for that of the original impression of the Life of Sir 
Henry Wot ton. 

The principal of the ensuing Notes, are, as it will 
readily be anticipated, founded on, or selected from Dr. 
Zouch's excellent, yet certainly pedantic edition of these 
Lives ; in which however, several new illustrations are 
inserted, dates have been supplied, some particulars 
added, and all his original references verified. The scho- 
lastic habits of that Divine, naturally led him, when 
turning to the Classics cited by Walton, to consult them 
in their original languages, rather than in the most po- 
pular translations of the time, from which the very 
words of the text are often to be recovered : but in the 
following annotations they have been carefully sought 
after> and, in general, correctly ascertained. The read- 
ing of Izaak Walton, though not extensive, was of the 
3 m 



442 NOTES. 

most happy and useful kind ; being at once of the most 
pious, best, most learned, and newest books of his day j 
which brought him acquainted, by their numerous re- 
ferences and citations, with the works of many authors, 
his very mention of whom has often excited the surprise 
of his Readers. He read, and he quoted, as though he 
had made the maxim of the wise Selden — which he very 
probably had heard — his rule for both. " In quoting of 
books/' said that excellent scholar, " quote such authors 
as are usually read : — quoting of authors is most for 
matter of fact, and there I write them as I would produce 
a witness ; sometimes for a free expression, and then I 
give the author his due, and gain myself praise by reading 
him." Such was the learning of Izaak Walton. He had 
read carefully, wisely, and well, rather than much ; and 
his conversation was so greatly enlightened, and adorned 
by his Authors, that he became a delightful companion 
for the most learned and pious Divines, even of his own 
period. 

In the edition of Walton's Lives, published by Dr. 
Zouch, there is a list of the literary labours of each 
person attached to his Memoir ; but as those of them- 
selves would form an article of considerable length, they 
have been reserved, together with a particular and in- 
teresting account of the impressions of Walton's own 
works, for the concluding volume of this series>* in 

* A separate publication to be entitled " Walton iana," 
consisting of copious Lives of ; Walton and Cotton, and ad- 
ditional Illustrations of the " Angler," and the " Lives" both 
graphic and literary, is also in preparation, with the view of 
doing still greater justice to this most graceful writer, and still 
further asserting the high rank he must ever hold as a genuine 
English Classic. Every known fragment of the Author's 
writing will also be comprised herein ; so that the labours of 
the present Editors, when completed, will present the Public,, 
for the first time, with the Complete Works of Walton ! 



NOTES. 443 

which they will be given with several additions and im- 
provements. There will also be introduced in that work 
a series of comparative passages, which occur in the 
writings of this Author, and which are particularly to be 
found in the Complete Angler, and the ensuing Lives. 
Such then being a general notice of the early editions of 
Izaak Walton's Lives, and the character of his Authors, 
the works to which he has chiefly referred in the ensuing 
pages, exclusively of the Sacred Scriptures, are presumed 
to be the following ; but the titles of several others are 
given in the course of the succeeding Notes. 

1 . Austin, St. D. Aurelius, St. Augustine's Confessions trans- 

lated : and with some marginal notes illustrated. Wherein 
divers Antiquities are explained ; and the marginal notes 
of a former Popish translation answered. By William 
Wats, D. D. Lond. 1650. 12mo. 

2. Barnard, Dr. Nicholas : Clavi Trabales, or, Nails fastened by 

some great .Masters of Assemblies. Lond. 1661. 

3. Camden, William : Britain, or, a Chorographical Description of 

the most Flourishing Kingdoms of England, Scotland, 
and the Isles adjoining, out of the depth of Antiquitie. 
Translated from the Latin by Philemon Holland, M. D. 
Lond. 1637. fol. 

4. ■ Annales, or the History of the most Renowned 
and Victorious Princesse Elizabeth, late Queen of England. 
Contayning all the important and remarkable passages of 
of State, both at home and abroad, during her long and 
prosperous reigne. Written in Latin by the learned Mr. 
William Camden. Translated into English by R. N. 
Gent, together with divers additions of the Author's never 
before published. Lond. 1635. fol. 

5. Donne, Dr. John : Pseudo-Martyr, wherein out of certaine 

propositions and gradations, this conclusion is euicted. 
That those which are of the Romane Religion in this 
kingdome, may, and ought to take the Oath of Allegiance. 
Lond. 1610. 4to. 



444 



NOTES. 



6. Donne, Dr. John : Devotions vpon emergent occasions, and 
seuerall steps in my sicknes. Digested into 1. Medita- 
tions vpon our humane condition. 2. Expostvlations and 
Debatements with God. 3. Prayers vpon the seuerall 
occasions to him. Lond. 1624. 12mo. 
Death's Duell, or a Consolation to the 



7. 



Soule against the dying life and living death of the body. 
Deliuered in a Sermon at Whitehall, before the King's 
Maiesty, in the beginning of Lent, 1630. By that late 
learned and Reuerend Diuine John Donne, Dr. in 
Diuinity, and Deane of St. Paul's, London. Being his 
last Sermon, and called by his Maiesties household, The 
Doctor's owne Funerall Sermon. Lond. 1632. 4to. 
Poems by J. D. with Elegies on the Au- 



thor's Death. Lond. 1635. 12mo. 

— lxxx Sermons preached by that learned 



10, 



and Reuerend Divine, Iohn Donne, Dr. in Divinity, late 
Deane of the Cathedrall Church of St. Paul's London. 
Lond. 1640. fol. 
BIATHANATOS. A Declaration of that 



Paradoxe or Thesis, that Self-homicide is not so naturally 
sin, that it may never be otherwise. Wherein the nature 
and extent of all those Lawes which seem to be violated 
by this act, are diligently surveyed. Lond. 1644. 4to. 

11. Fuller, Dr. Thomas : The Church History of Britain, from 

the Birth of Jesus Christ, untill the year m. dc xlviii. 
Lond. 1655. fol. 

12. Herbert, George : The Temple. Sacred Poems and Private 

Ejaculations. Cambr. 1633. 12mo. 

13. A Priest to the Temple, or the Character 

of a Country Parson. Lond. 1675. 8vo. 

14. Holinshed, Raphael : The Historie of England, from the time 

that it was first inhabited, vntill the time that it was last 
conquered. Continued by John Hooker. Lond. 1586. fol. 

15. Hooker, Richard : Of the Lawes of Ecclesiastical Politie, 

Eight Bookes; with some Tracts and Sermons. Lond. 
1631. fol. 



NOTES. 445 

16. Lambarde, William: A Perambulation of Kent; conteyning 

the Description, Hystorie, and Customes of that Shyre. 
Lond. 1576. 4to. 

17. Moryson, Fynes: An Itinerary, written first in the Latine 

Tongue, and then translated by him into Englishe ; con- 
taining his Ten Yeeres Travell through the Twelve Do- 
mjnions of Germany, Bohmerland, Sweitzerland, Nether- 
land, Denmarke, Poland, Italy, Turky, France, England, 
Scotland, and Ireland. Lond. 1617. fol. 

18. Padre Paolo Sarpi : The Historie of the Covncel of Trent ; 

conteining Eight Bookes. In which (besides the ordinarie 
Actes of the Councell)' are declared many notable oc- 
currences, which happened in Christendome, during the 
space of fourtie yeares and more. Written in Italian by 
Pietro Soave Polano, and faithfully translated into English 
by Nathaniel Brent. Lond. 1620. fol. 

19. Plutarch : The Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romanes, 

compared together by that grave and learned Philosopher 
and Historiographer, Plutarke of Chaeronea. Translated 
out of Greeke into French by James Amyot, Abbot of 
Bellozane, &c. and out of French into Englishe by Thomas 
North, (Esq. Controller of the Household to Queen Eli- 
zabeth.) Lond. 1579. fol. 

20. Sanderson, Dr. Robert, Bishop of Lincoln : Logicae Artis 

Compendium. Oxf. 1615. 8vo. 

21. — — ■ ■ ' xn Sermons, 

viz. Three ad Clerum, three ad Magistratum, and six ad 
Populum. Lond. 1632. fol. 

22. ■- xx Sermons, 

viz. Sixteen ad Aulam, three ad Magistratum, and one ad 
Populum, with a large Preface by the said Author. Lond. 
1655. fol. 

23. ■ DeJuramenli 
promissorii obligatione praelectiones septem. Habitae in 
Schola Theologica Oxon. Termino Michaelis An. Dom. 
mdcxlvi. Lond. 1647. 8vo. 



446 NOT E S. 

24. Sanderson, Dr. Robert, Bishop of Lincoln : Nine Cases of 

Conscience occasionally determined by the late Reverend 
Father in God, Robert Sanderson, Lord Bishop of Lincoln, 
Lond. 1678. 8vo. 

25. De Obligatione 

Conscientise, praelectiones decern Oxonii in Schola Theo- 
logica habitae Anno Dom. mdcxlvii. 1659. 8vo. 

26. Spotswood, John, Archbishop of St. Andrews : The History 

of the Church of Scotland, beginning the year of our 
Lord 203, and continued to the latter end of the reign of 
King James of blessed memory. Lond. 1654. fol. 

27. Travers, Walter : A Supplication made to the Privy Counsell. 

Oxf. 1612. 4to. 

28. Valdesso, Juan: The Hundred and Ten Considerations of 

Signor Iohn Valdesso. Translated from Spanish into 
Italian by Caelius Secundus Curio, of Basil, and into 
English by Nicholas Farrer, Jun. of little Gidding. Oxf. 
1638. 4to. 

29. Wadsworth, James : The Copies of Certaine Letters which 

have passed betweene Spaine and England in matter of 
Religion. Concerning the generall motiues to the Romane 
obedience. Betweene Master James Wadsworth, a late 
Pensioner of the Holy Inquisition in Shrill, and W. Bedell, 
a Minister of the Gospell of Jesus Christ in Suffolke. 
Lond. 1624. 4to. 

30. Watson, William : A Decacordon of x Quodlibetical Questions 

concerning Religion and State ; wherein the Author solves 
a hundred cross interrogatory doubts about the contentions 
betwixt the Seminary Priests. 1602. 4to. 



Page xvii. George, Lord Bishop of Winchester. 

This very eminent Prelate, so distinguished for his unshaken 
loyalty to King Charles L, was Dr. George Morley, who was born 
in Cheapside, London, Feb. 27th, 1597. He was educated at 
Westminster School, and Christ Church College, Oxford ; but in 
1647-48, he was deprived of all his preferments, and in the fol- 



NOTES. 447 

lowing year he left England, and remained abroad until the resto- 
ration. On the King's return he was made Dean of Christ Church, 
and Bishop of Worcester ; and in 1661, he was an active manager 
of the Conference between the Episcopal and Presbyterian Divines. 
In 1662, he was translated to the See of Winchester, to which, as 
well as to other places, he was a very liberal benefactor. He died 
at his palace of Farnham Castle, Oct. 29th, 1684, bearing the 
character of a pious man of exemplary life, but his temper was 
inclined to warmth and obstinacy from his former sufferings. His 
study was very severe, though he published but a few Sermons 
and Letters ; for he rose at five in the morning throughout the 
year, never having a fire in any season, and eating only once 
in the day. During his exile in Antwerp, and afterwards in 
Buda, for about seven years, he read the Church Service twice 
every day ; catechised once in the week ; and administered the 
Sacrament monthly to all the English who would partake of it. 
Biogr. Brit. 

Page 2. As once Pompey's poor bondman was. 

This circumstance is related in Plutarch's Lives, of which the 
edition used by Walton, was in all probability that marked No. 19, 
in the preceding list of Authorities ; and the passage referred to 
will be found at page 718 of that volume. This work is repeatedly 
quoted in the Complete Angler. 

Page 4. descended of the family of the famous and learned Sir 
Thomas More. 

Fuller, in his Church History, Book x. page 112, mentions 
these circumstances most probably from the present work ; since 
he concludes his notice of Donne by saying, that his " life is no lesse 
truly than elegantly written, by my worthily respected friend Mr. 
Izaak Walton, whence the Reader may store himself with further 
information." Zouch. In the first two editions of the Life of Donne, 
there is no separation between the Introd\iction and Memoir ; 
and no year mentioned for his time of birth. William Rastall, 
or Rastell, who is mentioned in the same paragraph of the text, 
was an eminent Printer of London, and the son of John Rastall 
and Elizabeth, the sister of Sir Thomas More. He was born and 
educated in London, and about 1525, at the age of 17, was sent to 
Oxford, after which he entered Lincoln's Inn, and became an ex- 
cellent Lawyer. On the change of religion in England he went 
to Loavain, being a zealous Catholic ; but on the accession of Mary 
he returned and filled several offices of great repute, of which one 
was Justice of the Common Pleas, In the reign of Elizabeth 
he again returned to Louvain, and died there August 27th, 1565. As 
he was a literary man, there are several works ascribed to him, of 
which it is doubtful if he were the Author ; but the " Abregement 
of the Statutys," alluded to in the text, was first published by him 



448 NO T E S. 



in 8vo. in 1533, and an account of it with his other books, and 
farther particulars of his life, may be seen in the Rev. Dr. Dibdin's 
edition of Ames's Typographical Antiquities, Vol. in. pp. 373-383. 
It is quaintly said in Walton's first edition of Donne's Life about 
this part of it, that he had " a command of the French and Latiue 
tongues, when others can scarce speak their owne." 

Page 4. Picus Mirandula. 

John Picus, Prince of Mirandula, a Duchy in Italy, now the 
property of the Dukes of Modena, was born Feb. 24th, 1463, and 
his father soon dying, his education was commenced by his mother. 
He is said to have understood twenty-two languages at the age of 
18 ; and at 24 he discoursed on every branch of knowledge with 
equal success. He travelled, disputed, and studied in many parts 
of Italy, forming an extensive literary acquaintance ; but the death 
of his friend Lorenzo de' Medicis, so much affected him, that, re- 
signing his sovereignty to his nephew, he died in retirement at 
Florence, Nov. 17th, 1494. His works were chiefly Controversial 
Theology, and old Philosophy, with some familiar Epistles. 
Chalmers. His name does not occur in Walton's first edition. 

Page 6. in his Preface to his Pseudo-Martyr. 

Vide No. 5 of the foregoing list of Authorities for the full title 
of this volume ; and the passages alluded to will be found in the 
fourth paragraph of the Preface. 

Page 7. the Cardinal Bellarmine. 

One of the most celebrated controversial writers of his time, 
who was born in Tuscany in 1542, and became a Jesuit in 1560. 
Until 1576, he was a teacher of Divinity in the Low Countries, 
but he then commenced reading controversial Lectures at Rome ; 
and with such success, that Sixtus V. sent him with his Legate 
into France, to assist in the event of any religious dispute. In 
1599, Clement VIII. created him a Cardinal, and he resided in 
the Vatican from 1605 till 1621, when he left it in declining health, 
and died in the House of the Jesuits, Sept. 17th. His work alluded 
to in the text is entitled " Disputationes de Controversiis Christiana, 
1 Fidei, adversus sui temporis Hereticos," Cologne, 1610, fol. 4 vol, 
Chalmers. 

Page 7. the then Dean of Gloucester. 

Dr. Anthony Rudde, a native of Yorkshire, and Fellow of 
Trinity College, Cambridge ; who died Bishop of St. David's in 
1613-14. Fuller, in his Church History, Book x. Cent. xvii. pp. 
68-69, calls him " A most excellent Preacher, whose Sermons 
were very acceptable to Queen Elizabeth ;" and adds that 
" he justly retained the repute of a Reverend and godly Prelate, 
and carried the same to the grave. He wrought much on the 
Welsh by his wisdome, and won their affections." 






NOTES. 449 



Page 7. the Cales and Island Voyages. 

The Cales, or Cadiz voyage, was an expedition set forward by 
Queen Elizabeth in .1596, to prevent the invasion of England by 
Philip, King of Spain. It consisted of a fleet of 150 sail, with 
twenty-two Dutch ships, and seven thousand soldiers ; Charles 
Howard, Earl of Nottingham, being Lord High Admiral, and the 
Earl of Essex, General of the Land forces. On June 21st, the 
Spanish squadron was destroyed, and the town taken, with an 
immense treasure and stores ; in addition to which the inhabitants 
redeemed their lives at the price of 520,000 ducats. The Island 
voyage was also an expedition to oppose the King of Spain in- 
vading Ireland, in 1597 ; and it consisted of 120 sail, and 6000 
Land forces under the Earl of Essex. It was his intention first to 
have destroyed the ships preparing, and then sailing to the Azores, 
or Western Islands, to have waited for, and captured the Spanish 
India Fleet, This scheme, however failed, through contrary winds, 
storms, and a dispute between the Earl of Essex and Sir Walter 
Raleigh. Rapin. 

Page 8. the Lord Ellesmere. 

Sir Thomas Ellesmere of Tatton in the County of Chester, 
Knight, and founder of the splendid house of Egerton. He was 
the natural son of Sir Richard Egerton of Ridley, was born about 
1540, and was entered of Brazen Nose College, Oxford, at the age 
of 17, whence he removed to Lincoln's Inn. On June 28th, 1581, 
he was made Solicitor-General, and was soon afterwards knighted j 
in April 1594, he was appointed Master of the Rolls ; and in 
1596, he received the Great Seal, and was sworn of the Privy- 
Council. In 1604, James I. created him Baron of Ellesmere and 
Lord Chancellor, which office he held till the age of 76, when he 
addressed two pathetic letters to the King for his dismissal. The 
Sovereign first created him Viscount Brackley, and then received 
the Seals from him in person upon his death-bed. He died at 
York House in the Strand, March 15th, 1617. Ormerod's Hist, 
of Chester. 

Page ibid. Sir George More, 

Was the only son and heir of Sir William More, and was born 
Nov. 28th, 1553. He was educated at Exeter College, Oxford, 
whence he removed to the Inns of Court. About 1597, he was 
knignted, in 1610, was made Chancellor of the Garter, and in 
1615, Lieutenant of the Tower. He frequently sat in Parliament 
for the Borough of Guildford, and he died Oct. 16th, 1632. His 
sister, the Lady Ellesmere, who is also mentioned in the text, was 
the eldest daughter of Sir William More, and was born April 28th, 
1552. She was thrice married, the last of her husbands being 
Chancellor Egerton ; and the second Sir John Woolley of Pirford, 
Knt. whose liberality to Dr. Donne and his family is related on 

3 N 



450 NOTES. 



page 13. Loseley House, the seat of the More family, is situate 
in the Hundred of Godlaming, and County of Surrey, about two 
miles south-west of Guildford. It consists of a main body, facing 
the north, and one wing extending northward from its western 
extremity ; the whole being built of the ordinary country stone, 
vide Bray's Hist, of Surrey, vol. i. pp. 92-99. The fine passage con- 
cerning the rashness of youthful passion on page 9, was not inserted 
till Walton's second edition. 

Page 10. Henry, Earl of Northumberland. 

Henry Percy, ninth Earl of Northumberland, was born in April y 
1564 ; and succeeded to the title in June 1585. In 1588, he was 
one of those gallant young noblemen who hired ships at their own 
charge, and joined the fleet then dispatched against the Spanish 
Armada ; and in 1593, he was made a Knight of the Garter. In 
1601, whilst at the siege of Ostend, he had some disputes with 
Sir Francis Vere, and on his return to England, challenged him ; 
though their proceedings were stopped by the express command 
of Elizabeth. He was greatly attached to the House of Stuart, 
and was active in the interests of James I. ; but as one of the con- 
spirators in the Gunpowder Plot was related to his Lordship, he 
was prosecuted, fined ^£30,000, by Sir Edward Coke in the Star- 
Chamber, and sentenced to imprisonment in the Tower during 
life. After many most pathetic letters and petitions to the King, 
the Earl's fine was reduced to ^20,000, and his liberty restored 
after fifteen years confinement, in July 1621. He died, Nov. 5th, 
1632. Wood calls him " a learned man himself, and the generous 
favourer of all good learning ;" during his imprisonment he allowed 
salaries for eminent scholars to attend upon him, and he also en- 
joyed the converse of Sir Walter Raleigh, then a prisoner in the 
Tower. He had a peculiar talent for the mathematics ; and on 
account of his love for the Occult Sciences, he was sometimes en- 
titled Henry the Wizard. Collins. The passage beginning " and 
though the Lord Chancellor" — down to — " it proved too true," is 
not entire in either of Walton's first two editions. 

Page 11. Samuel Brook, 

Son of Robert Brook, an eminent Merchant, and Lord Mayor 
of York, in 1582 and 1595. He was admitted of Trinity College, 
in Cambridge, in 1596, and Sept. 26th, 1612, was chosen Divinity 
Professor in Gresham College, being then Chaplain to Prince 
Henry. In 1615, he was made D. D.; in 1618, Rector of St. Mar- 
garet's Lothbury, in London ; in 1629, Master of Trinity College ; 
and Archdeacon of Wells, in 1631, in which year he died. Of his 
writing there remains one Latin Discourse, and a Latin Pastoral 
called Melanthe, acted before King James at Cambridge. Chris- 
topher Brook was a Bencher and Summer Reader at Lincoln's Inn, 
and is much commended as a poet by Ben Jonson, Drayton, &c« 



NOTES. 451 



He wrote an Elegy to the never-dying memory of Henry, Prince 
of Wales, Lond. 1613, 4to. ; and he also published a volume of 
Eclogues, Lond. 1614. In Dr. Donne's Poems are two addressed 
to this gentleman, " the Storme," and " the Calme." Zouch. 

Page 11. his wife was — detained from him. 

Notwithstanding all the metaphysical conceits for which Dr. 
Johnson has censured Donne in his Life of Cowley, it cannot be 
denied that he drew many of the materials for his verses from his 
own life, and that he then wrote with a fervour of language which 
sometimes compensated for his extravagance of idea. This may 
be the better illustrated by a reference to Donne's Poems, No. 8, 
of the foregoing list, and on page 95 of that volume, Elegy xiv. is 
entitled, " His parting from her," which seems by it's name and 
contents, to have been written on his being separated from Mrs. 
Donne. On page 100 too, Elegy xvn., which is called the " Ex- 
postulation," appears to have been written when " the friends of 
both parties used many arguments to kill or cool their affections 
for each other ;" this was at the first separation of Mr. Donne 
and Ann More, previously to their private marriage. Allusions to 
various passages of Dr. Donne's secret courtship, and subsequent 
distresses, are perhaps to be found in many others of his Poems ; 
and in Elegy iv. page 76, (t the Perfume," he seems to refer to 
that suspicion which was awakened, both of Anne More and of 
himself before their secret and unhappy marriage. The scriptural 
allusion contained in this paragraph of the text, is to Genesis, 
chap. xxix. ; and the first edition has this and similar references 
placed in the margin. 

Page 13. Sir Francis Wolly, 

Or Wolley, only son of Sir John Wolley, Knight, Dean of 
Carlisle, and Latin Secretary to Queen Elizabeth ; was bora 
March 18th, 1582-83, and was a Member of Merton College, 
Oxford. In 1600, he represented the Borough of Haslemere, in 
Parliament, and was afterwards knighted, but he died unmarried 
in the flower of his age in 1610. He was buried in the same 
grave with his father, and the Lady Egerton his mother, in the 
Church of Pirford, in Surrey ; but in 1614, their bodies were all 
removed, and re-interred under a beautiful monument of black 
and white marble, bearing their effigies, and a Latin Epitaph, in 
St. Paul's Cathedral, which was destroyed in the great fire. 
Bray. 

Page 14. Dr. Morton. 

Thomas Morton, is supposed by his friend and biographer, Dr. 
John Barwick, to have been descended from the famous Cardinal 
Morton, Bishop of Ely. He was born at York, March 20th, 1564, 
and was educated there and at Halifax, where one of his school- 



452 NOTE S. 



fellows was the notorious Guy Fawkes. In 1582, he was entered 
of St. John's College, Cambridge, where he read Lectures on 
Logic ; and on account of his skill in disputing with the Romish 
recusants, he was selected to be Chaplain to the Earl of Hunting- 
don, then Lord President of the North. In 1602, holding a Rec- 
tory about four miles from York, he distinguished himself by his 
fearless and charitable exertions whilst the Plague was in that 
City ; often visiting the Pest-house there, and carrying provisions 
to the poor unattended by a single domestic. In 1603, he went as 
Chaplain with the English Embassy to Denmark ; in 1606, he 
became D. D. and Chaplain to James I. ; he was made Dean of 
Gloucester by the King, June 22nd, 1607, and was removed to 
Winchester in 1609. Early in 1616, Dr. Morton was made 
Bishop of Chester ; in which Diocese he used many efforts to 
conciliate the Nonconformists. In 1618, he was again ti'anslated 
to the See of Lichfield and Coventry, in which situation he de- 
tected the supposed witchcraft of the Boy of Bilson ; and on July 
2nd, 1632, he was advanced to the Bishopric of Durham. Dr. 
Morton suffered much during the Rebellion, and was expelled 
from his Palace, but he was at length taken into the protection of 
Sir Christopher Yelverton, to whose son he became Tutor ; and at 
whose seat in Northamptonshire he died, Sept. 22nd, 1659, 
having been 44 years a Bishop, and being in the 95th year of his 
age. Life by Dr. Barwick. The proposal of Dr. Morton to Mr. 
Donne, beginning at the words " It hath been," page 13, down 
to " a rest to my pen," page 18, was not inserted until Walton's 
second edition of this life. 

Page 18. You know Sir who says, <f-c. 

Romans xiv. 22. The modern translation is " Happy is he that 
condemneth not himself in that which he doeth." Zouch, 

Page 19. I shall present you with an extract, <%c. 

As the epistles of Dr. Donne, cited by Walton, are not to be 
found entire in that printed collection of his correspondence, pub- 
lished by Dr. Donne, Junior, under the title of " Letters to 
severall Persons of Honour," Lond. 1651, 1654, 4to. They were 
therefore most probably copied from the originals. Dr. Zouch 
quotes a passage from another of Dr. Donne's letters, wherein he 
says, " I write from the fire-side in my parlour, and in the noise 
of three gamesome children, and by the side of her, whom, be- 
cause I have transplanted into such a wretched fortune, I must 
labour to disguise that from her by all such honest devices, as 
giving her my company and discourse," page 137. The passage 
containing these letters from page 19, " having settled his dear 
wife," to page 22, " the earnest persuasion of friends," is not in 
either of the first two editions of this life. 



NOTES. 453 

Page 22. Sir Robert Drury, 

A celebrated member of the Family of Drury, of Hawsted, in 
Suffolk, was the eldest son of Sir William Drury, who was killed 
in a duel in France in 1589. , In 1591, Sir Robert attended the 
.Earl of Essex to the unsuccessful Siege of Rouen, where he was 
knighted, when he could not exceed the age of 14. He married 
when he came of age, Anne, daughter of Sir Nicholas Bacon of 
Redgrave, in Suffolk ; by whom he had a daughter Dorothy, who 
died in 1610, and to whose memory Dr. Donne composed two 
Poems, " An Anatomie of the World," and " The Progresse of 
the Soule :" see his Poems in the preceding List, pages 211, 234, 
301. In March 1610, he built, and liberally endowed an Alms- 
house for Widows at Hawsted, and in 1612, he went to Paris, 
when Dr. Donne, as it is shewn by his letters, accompanied him. 
There seems to be some error concerning the time when Walton 
states that Dr. Donne went into France, since the Lord Hay was 
not sent Ambassador there till July 1616, and beside the dates of 
Donne's Letters, Sir Robert Drury died April 2d, 1615. His 
Latin Epitaph from Hawsted Church is given by Sir John Cullum, 
and he supposes it might have been composed by Dr. Donne. 
Cullum's Hist. Hawsted. Drury-House, also mentioned in the text, 
is supposed to have been erected by the father of this Sir Robert ; 
it stood at the lower end of Drury Lane, and upper end of Wych 
Street. It was afterwards the seat of William Earl of Craven, 
who called it Craven House from the additions he made to it, 
which comprised several houses. It was entered through a pair of 
wide gates, which led into a spacious court-yard, and at the back 
was a handsome garden. The remains of Craven House were 
taken down in 1809, and the Olympic Theatre erected on a part 
of it's site. Seymour, Pennant. 

Page 26. The Ghost of Julius Ccesar did appear to Brutus. 

For this narrative, vide North's translation of Amyot's Plutarch, 
No. 19, in the preceding list, pages 1071 and 1078, of that volume. 
It is possible that when Walton wrote this passage, he derived 
his information concerning Spirits, from Thomas Hey wood's " Hie- 
rarchie of the Blessed Angells, their names, order, and offices." 
Lond. 1635. fol. Vide page 219. The whole of this narrative, 
&c. concerning Dr. Donne's vision, beginning " At this time," 
page 23, down to page 26, " many of the Nobility," is wanting 
in Walton's earlier editions of the life as well as in the collection 
of 1670 : and it has been supposed that he did not sooner insert 
it that he might have time to ascertain it's truth. The account of 
the visions of St. Austin and Monica, will be found in the volume 
marked No. 1. in the preceding list of Authorities, vide Book iii. 
Chap. 11, page 75 ; and Book viii. Chap. 12, pp. 253-256. 



454 NOTES. 



Page 27. A copy of Verses, <$*c. 

These stanzas will be found in the edition of Dr. Donne's Poems, 
marked No. 8, in the preceding list of Authorities, page 42, and 
are there entitled " A Valediction forbidding Mourning." In the 
same work too, there are other verses, which seem to have been 
composed upon the same, or a similar occasion, as in the Song on 
page 13, beginning, " Sweetest love I do not go f and that Ron- 
deau, on page 62, commencing, " Soul's joy now I am gone." 
Mr. Alexander Chalmers, in his Memoir of Donne, in the General 
Biographical Dictionary, supposes that it was probably upon Mr. 
Donne's parting from his wife to go into France, that he addressed 
to her, those verses, " By our first strange and fatal interview." 
" She had formed," he continues, if this conjecture be allowed, " the 
romantic design of accompanying him in the disguise of a page ; 
from which it was the purpose of these verses to dissuade her." 
These fervent and pathetic lines are contained in the volume already 
referred to, at page 269 ; they are entitled, " Elegie on his Mis- 
tris," and certainly possess many internal arguments in favour of 
this supposition. 

Page 29. Bishop Montague. 

James, fifth son to Sir Edward, and brother to Edward, First 
Lord Montague of Boughton, in the County of Northampton, 
was usually called " King James's Ecclesiastical Favourite. He 
was educated in Christ Church College, Cambridge, and in 1608, 
was made Bishop of Bath and Wells ; when he repaired the 
Abbey Church of Bath, at a great expense, through the represen- 
tations of Sir John Harrington. In 1616, he was translated to the 
Bishopric of Winchester, and died in his 49th year in 1618, being 
buried in the Abbey at Bath. " The learned and eloquent works 
of his Majesty," mentioned in the text, were published by this 
Divine in folio, with two fine engravings by Simon Passe, and 
Reginald Elstracke, being entitled, " The workes of the Most High 
and Mighty Prince lames, by the Grace of God, King of Great 
Britaine, #c. Published by lames, Bishop of Winton, and Dean of 
His Maiesties Chappel Royal." Lond. 1616. Zouch. Brit. Com- 
pend. Watt. 

Page 30. the most reverend Dr. Andrews. 

Launcelot Andrews, a Prelate of most eminent virtues, born in 
London in 1565, and educated at Merchant Taylor's School, and 
Pembroke Hall, Cambridge, of which he became Fellow. He not 
only attracted great attention at the University by his Lectures on 
the Commandments, and his skill in Cases of Conscience, but 
Henry Earl of Huntingdon made him his Chaplain when he was 
President of the North — where he made several converts to the 
Protestant faith — and he was also patronised by Secretary Wal~ 



NOTES. 455 



sfngham. Queen Elizabeth made him one of her Chaplains in 
Ordinary, and was so much pleased with his preaching, that she 
appointed him Prebendary and Dean of Westminster, and Bishop 
of London at the death of Dr. Bancroft. Dr. Andrews was also in 
great favour with James I. who promoted him to the See of Chi- 
chester in 1605, and in 1609, to that of Ely. In 1618, he was 
translated to Winchester, and he died at the Episcopal Palace in 
Southwark, Sept. 25th, 1626, being buried under a splendid monu- 
ment in St. Saviour's Church. Bishop Andrews was one of the 
translators of King James's Bible, and he is said to have known 
fifteen modern languages. His other works, were a Latin answer 
to Bellarmine's tract against the Ecclesiastical power of Princes; 
an excellent Manual of Private Devotions, written in Latin and 
Greek, and translated by Dean- Stanhope ; and several Sermons 
and Tracts, in Latin and English. Biogr. Brit. 

Page 31. The Earl of Somerset — then at Theobalds, &c. 

This very celebrated favourite was Robert Carr, a Scots gentle- 
man, who had been page to King James I. before he came to Eng- 
land. He was introduced to the King at a tilting, in 1611, by 
Lord Hay, when the accidental breaking of his leg by a fall from 
his horse, at once brought him into favour. On his recovery, he 
was knighted; the King himself taught him the Latin tongue, 
made him Lord of his Bed-chamber, and, soon after, Lord Trea- 
surer of Scotland. " All suits, all petitions," says Rapin, were 
addressed to him, and no favours granted but by his means." In 
1612 he was created Viscount Rochester, a Member of the Privy 
Council, and a Knight of the Garter; and, at first, he conducted 
himself with moderation ; but becoming enamoured of that infa- 
mous woman Frances Howard, afterwards Countess of Essex, she 
was divorced from her husband to be married to Carr, who, Nov. 4th, 
1613, was created Earl of Somerset, and the following July, Lord 
Chamberlain. The excellent Sir Thomas Overbury having vainly 
endeavoured to prevent the above marriage, drew upon himself the 
anger of both parties, and by their intrigues he was committed to 
the Tower, where he was poisoned Sept. 15th, 1613. This was 
not discovered until 1615, when the Lieutenant of the Tower, and 
four others, were tried, condemned, and executed ; and though 
sentence was also passed upon the Earl and Countess of Somerset, 
they were pardoned, but banished the Court, and the former died 
in July, 1645. Rapin — Sandford. An historical account of Theo- 
bald's house, with an exterior view, will be found in the recent edi- 
tions of Walton's Complete Angler, printed uniformly with the 
present work. The passage in the text, begiuning, " And though 
His Majesty" page 30, down to " but the King gave a positive 
denial" — page 31, was not inserted until the second edition of the 
Life of Donne. 



456 



NOTES. 



Page 32. As he professeth in his Book of Devotions. 

The title of this volume will be found at No. 6 of the foregoing 
list of authorities, and Dr. Zouch supposed that the passage referred 
to was the commencement of the Dedication to Charles Prince of 
Wales, vide sign. A 3, rev ; but the margin of the first edition of 
Dr. Donne's Life, has " Expost. 8." A reference to this part of the 
work from page 173-190, will shew that the whole of the article 
relates to the King's endeavours to make him enter into Holy Or- 
ders : but the particular passage will be found on page 182. 

Page 33. Such strifes as these St. Austin had. 

Vide No. 1. of the preceding list of Authors, Book VIII. Chap. 
8, page 243. The passage is entitled " What he did in the Gar- 
den." The account of St. Austin's conversion by the preaching 
of St. Ambrose, will be found in Book V, chap. 14, page 138. 
St. D. Aurelius Augustine was born at Tagasta, in Africa, in 
354. Though he had received an excellent education, his early 
life was careless and dissolute ; and in 371 he became a convert 
to the heresy of the Manichees at Carthage, where also he 
taught Rhetoric in 380, but lived in almost open profligacy. In 
383 he was made Professor of Rhetoric at Milan ; and was pre» 
vailed on, partly by the tears and entreaties of his pious mother, 
Monica, to attend the Sermons of St. Ambrose, which effected his 
conversion, and in 387 be was baptized. He returned into Africa 
the next year, was ordained Priest, and was assistant and successor 
to Valerius, Bishop of Hippo. He died of a fever in 430, during 
the Siege of Hippo by the Vandals under Genseric, having written 
a history of his life under the title of Confessions, in which he cen- 
sures his former folly ; but his subsequent charity, piety, and zeal, 
procured for him the title of " the Great Doctor of Africa." St. 
Ambrose was born at Aries in France, in 340, and was called " the 
Mellifluous Doctor," from his eloquence and sweetness of language. 
In 374, he was made Bishop of Milan, where he was a firm op- 
poser to the Arians and Pagans, and he also put the Emperor 
Theodosius to open penance for his massacre in that City. He 
died at Milan in 397. Cave. The Scriptural references on this 
page are to II. Corinthians, ii, 16; Exodus, hi. 11 ; Genesis, 
xxxii, 28 ; II Samuel, vii. 18 ; St. Luke, i. 38 ; and Psalms, cxvi, 
13 ; some of which are given on the margin of the first edition. 
The meekness of Moses is mentioned in Numbers, xii, 3. The 
Scriptural references on pages 34 and 35, are to Psalm lxxxiv, 1, 
10. 

Page 36. Mr. Chidley. 

John Chudleigh, M. A. of Wadham College, Oxford, and eldest 
son of Sir John Chudleigh, Bart, of Ashton, in Devonshire, con- 
cerning whom, vide Prince's Worthies of Devon, Edit. Lond. 1701, 



NOTES. 457 

Fol. page 209. The elegy quoted in the text, will be found at the 
end of Donne's Poems, No. 8 of the list, and on signat. c c, 7 rev. 
of the volume, but the verses in the text are somewhat altered from 
the original, and are not all consecutive. 

Page 37. Dr. Harsnett. 

Samuel Harsnett, born at Colchester in 1561, and admitted of 
King's College, Cambridge, in Sept. 1576, whence he removed to 
Pembroke Hall, of which he was elected Fellow in 1583, and 
Master in 1605. In the same year, and again in 1614, he was 
Vice Chancellor of Cambridge ; in 1609, he was made Bishop of 
Chichester, whence he was translated to the See of Norwich in 1 519, 
and to the Archbishopric of York in 1628. In Nov. 1629, Dr. 
Harsnett was made a Privy Councillor, and he died May 25th, 
1631. He was one of the best writers of his time, and his publica- 
tions consist of a Sermon at Paul's Cross, and a Controversial tract 
on Demoniacal Possession. Le Neve states that he gave up his 
Mastership in Cambridge, rather than stand the result of an en- 
quiry into 57 articles which were brought against him. Biogr. 
Brit. 

The circumstance of Dr. Donne being madeD.D. at Cambridge, 
is related in a different manner in two letters written by Mr. Cham- 
berlain to Sir Dudley Carleton. In one, dated March 16th, 1614, 
he writes " I had almost forgotten, that almost all the Courtiers 
went forth Masters of Arts at the King's being there ; but few, or 
no Doctors, save only Younge, which was done by a mandate, 
being son to Sir Peter, the King's schoolmaster. The Vice-Chan- 
cellor and University were exceeding strict in that point, and 
refused many importunities of great men ; among whom was Mr. 
Secretary, that made great means for Mr. Westfield ; but it would 
not be ; neither the King's intreaty for John Dun would prevail : 
yet they are threatened with a mandate, which, if it come, it is like 
they will obey ; but they are resolved to give him such a blow withal, 
that he were better w'ithout it." In another letter, of nearly the 
same date, he writes thus.—" John Donne, and one Cheke, went 
out Doctors at Cambridge with much ado, after our coming away, 
by the King's express mandate ; though the Vice-Chancellor and 
some of the Heads called them openly Filios noctis et tenebriones, 
that sought thus to come in at the window, when there was a fair 
gate open. But the worst is, that Donne had gotten a reversion of 
the Deanery of Canterbury, if such grants could be lawful ; where- 
by he hath purchased himself a great deal of envy, that a man of 
his sort should seek, per saltum, to intercept such a place from so 
many more worthy and ancient Divines." Zouch. 

Page 38. His wife died, 

Aug. 15th, 1617, on the seventh day after the birth of her 
twelfth child. Lord Orford, in his Anecdotes of Painting, under 
the class of Artists living in the reign of King James I., has printed 

3 o 



458 NOTES. 



the contents of the Account Book of Nicholas Stone, Sen. an emi- 
nent English Sculptor, who died in 1647, aged 61 ; and from thi« 
document it is ascertained that he made " a tomb for Dr. Donne's 
wife in St. Clement Danes, for the which I had fiffeen pieces." 
Works of Hor. Walpole, Earl of Orford. Lond. 1796-1822, 4to. 
vol. iii, page 166. This monument stood on the north side of the 
Chancel, and the inscription may be seen in Strype's edition of 
Stowe's survey. Lond. 1754-55, vol. ii. page 109. Zouch. The 
text of the Funeral Sermon which Dr. Donne preached for his wife, 
was from Lamentations, chap. iii. 1, of which book he gave a poe- 
tical version, printed with his other Poems. Dr. Zouch supposes 
it was composed probably during his distress; but in Donne's 
Funeral Sermon, which is printed in his second volume of Fifty 
Sermons, Lond. 1649, Fol. Serm. xlviii, pages 445-455, there is 
nothing of that excess of grief which it might be supposed to con- 
tain. The Scriptural references on pages 38, 39, and 40, are to 
Job vi, 8 ; xvii, 13 ; Psalm cxxxvii ; I. Corinthians, ix, 16 ; and 
Lamentations, iii, 1. In the first edition of Donne's Life, the pas- 
sage beginning, " In this retiredness," page 38, down to " attend 
their education," page 40, is wanting. 

Page 40. Dr. Gataker' s removalfrom thence. 

Dr. Zouch, in his note upon this passage, originally pointed out 
an error concerning Dr. Donne's immediate predecessor as Divinity 
Reader at Lincoln's Inn : for he states " that Mr. Thomas Gataker 
quitted, that Society for the Rectory of Rotherhithe in 1611, six 
years before Dr. Donne was chosen there. Upon referring to 
Coxe's Manuscript Digest of the Records of Lincoln's Inn, it is 
ascertained that Dr. Gataker was elected Preacher in the 44th of 
Eliz. 1601 ; that he was succeeded by Dr. Holloway, in the 10th 
of James I. 1612 ; that Dr. Donne became Lecturer in the 14th of 
James I. 1616 ; that in the 17th of that Sovereign, 1619, he went 
on his German Embassy; and that in his 20th year, 1622, he was 
succeeded at Lincoln's Inn by Mr. Preston. Thomas Gataker, a 
learned Divine, was born in London, in 1574, and was educated at 
'St. John's College, Cambridge. He was celebrated for a Treatise 
" Of the Nature and Use of Lots ;" and, being of the Parliamentary 
party, was one of the Assembly of Divines in 1642, though his 
own conduct was moderate, and he protested against the violence 
of others, and especially against the King's trial. He died in 
1654, and was also the author of some excellent Annotations on 
the Scriptures, and some Tracts against William Lilly. His house 
had the appearance of a College, where many young men, both 
English and Foreign, attended to receive instruction by his Lec- 
tures. Wood's Athen. Oxom Zouch. 

Page 41. the Lady Elizabeth the King's only daughter. 

This unfortunate Princess, from her amiable and engaging 



NOTES. 4&9 



manners, was called " The Queen of Hearts." She was born in 
Scotland, Aug. 19th, 1596 ; and was married to Frederick V. 
Count Palatine of the Rhine, &c. on Valentine's day, Feb. 14th, 
1612, on which occasion Dr. Donne wrote an Epithalamium. 
She left England, April 10th of the same year ; and on the death 
of the Emperor Matthias, March 20th, 1619, the States of Bohemia, 
rejected his cousin and adopted son, Ferdinand II. from being 
their King, and offered their crown to the husband of Elizabeth. 
Ferdinand, however, being elected Emperor of Germany, in the 
following August, marched his forces against Frederick in Prague, 
and not only expelled him and his Queen and children thence, but 
also took from him his Palatinate, and forced him for succour into 
the Low Countries. He died of a Fever at Mentz, Nov. 29th, 
16S2, and his Queen continued at the Hague until after the Res- 
toration, when she returned to England, and died Feb. 13th, 1661. 
Sandford, Rapin, Zouch. The Ambassador sent by King James, 
to effect a peace between the Bohemian States, and the Emperor 
Ferdinand, was his favourite, Sir James Hay, born at Pitcorthie, in 
Fife, who came with him to England in 1603. In June 1615, he 
was made Baron Hay of Sauley, in Yorkshire ; in July 1616, he 
went Ambassador to France. ; in March 1617, he was made a Privy 
Councillor ; and in July 1618, Viscount Doncaster. He departed 
on his Embassy in May 1619, and returned in the January fol- 
lowing ; after which, in 1622, he was again sent as Ambassador to 
France, and his services rewarded by his being created Earl of 
Carlisle. He died at Whitehall, April 25th, 1636, and was buried 
in St. Paul's. His embassy to Ferdinand was very costly, but 
entirely useless ; and Rapin doubts if he even once saw the Em- 
peror. Lord Clarendon has given a very fine portrait of this 
nobleman ; in which he states him to have been a person well 
qualified by his breeding in France, and study in human learning, 
to entertain the King, and by his gracefulness and affability to 
excite a particular interest in him. He was a man of the greatest 
expense in his own person, and his famous Ante-Suppers, of any 
of his time ; and after having spent £ 400,000, received of the 
crown, he died, leaving literally nothing behind him but the repu- 
tation of a fine gentleman, and an accomplished courtier. Douglas. 

Page 41. he left Ms friends of Lincoln's Inn. 

In Dr. Donne's third volume of xxvi Sermons, Lond. 1661. 
Fol. pages 269-281, Sermon xix., is the address he delivered on 
this occasion from Ecclesiastes xii. 1. " Remember now thy Creator 
in the days of thy youth ;" and it is entitled, " A Sermon of Vale- 
diction at my going into Germany, at Lincoln's Inne, April 18, 
1619." In the margin of the first edition of Donne's Life, there is 
ut this place a reference to Genesis xlvii. 9. 



460 NOTE S. 



Page 43. Dr. Carey. 

Valentine Carey, Master of Christ's College in Cambridge, and 
Dean of St. Paul's, is said to have been born in Northumberland, 
and descended of the noble family of Hunsdon. He was con- 
secrated Bishop of Exeter, Nov. 18th, 1621, and he died June 
10th, 1626, and was buried in St. Paul's. Godwin, Zouch. The 
first edition of this life has a reference here to Psalm cxxxii. 4, 5. 

Page 44. Dr. White. 

Dr. Thomas White, born in Bristol, and entered a Student of 
Magdalen Hall, Oxford, about 1566. He was well known and 
much esteemed as a preacher, being Minister of St. Gregory's, near 
St. Paul's, in London, and afterward Rector of St. Dunstan's in 
Fleet-Street. In 1585, he was made a Canon of St. Paul's; in 
1590, Treasurer of Salisbury ; in 1591, a Canon of Christ Church, 
Oxford ; and in 1593, a Canon of St. George's, Windsor. His 
cnly publications were Sermons ; but his charities to Bristol, and 
to Sion College, London, and his foundation of a Lecture on Moral 
Philosophy at Oxford, have better preserved his memory. He 
died March 1st, 1623. Wood's Athens Oxon. 

Richard Sackville, third Earl of Dorset, also mentioned on the 
above page, was born March 28th, 1589, at the Charter-house in 
London ; and Feb. 27th, 1608-9, was married to Anne, daughter 
and heir of the famous George Clifford, Earl of Cumberland, his 
father having died two days before. He died on Easter Sunday. 
March 28th, 1624 ; and his lady, in a manuscript history of her 
life, has given him the character of an amiable man, a scholar, a 
soldier, a courtier, and a gentleman. His brother Edward, fourth 
Earl of Dorset, also referred to, was born in 1590 ; and having 
been accomplished both by study and travel, was early distinguished 
for his eminent abilities. In 1613, he was involved in a quarrel 
with the Lord Bruce, which terminated in a duel, when the latter 
was killed near Antwerp. In 1620, he was made a Knight of the 
Bath, and in 1625, one of the chief Commanders sent to assist 
the King of Bohemia, and Knight of the Garter. He adhered to 
the Royal cause throughout the Civil Wars, and took the King's 
murder so much to heart, as never after to leave his dwelling, but 
died July 17th, 1652, at Dorset House, in Fleet Street, London. 
Collins. 

The Earl of Kent, who is likewise mentioned in connection with 
the above nobleman, was Henry Grey, ninth Earl of his family, 
who married Elizabeth, second daughter, and co-heir of Gilbert 
Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury ; and who died without issue at his 
house in White Friars, London, Nov. 21st, 1639. Hasted. The 
first edition of Donne's Life, has in this place a marginal re- 
ference to Genesis xlv. 28, and on page 46, there is an allusion 
to Job x. 12. 



NOTES. 461 



Page 49. in his most excellent Book of Devotions. 

Vide No. 6, of the foregoing list of authorities, and the passage 
referred to by Walton probably commences at Meditation 19th ; 
when the disease of the patient, supposed to be the author of thi3 
book, shews the first favourable symptom, vide pages 444-479. 
The gratitude of Dr. Donne is certainly beautifully exemplified in 
the Prayer on page 474. The account of Bishop King's offer to 
Dr. Donne, from the words, " In this distemper," page 46, down 
to " within a few days," page 49, was not inserted until the second 
edition of this life. In the first edition the following scriptural 
references appear on the margin : Genesis xii. 7, 8 ; xxviii. 18 ; 
I Corinthians xv. 31 ; Job xxx. 15 ; vii. 3. The Hymn on page 
51, will be found in Donne's Poems, page 388. 

Page 52. the reader of St. Augustine's life. 

St. Augustine died after the Goths and Vandals had with great 
cruelty and slaughter, over-run the greatest part of his native 
country of Africa ; in which only three cities of any eminence 
were preserved from their fury, Hippo, his own city being one, 
though it was besieged by them for fourteen months. According 
to his prayer he was delivered out of their hands by the mercy of 
God, who took him to himself during the siege. Zouch. 

Page 53. how is that place become desolate. 

By the votes of both Houses, passed in the Long Parliament, 
Sept. 10th, 11th, 1642, for the abolishing of Bishops, Deans, and 
Chapters, the very foundation of this famous Cathedral, says Sir 
William Dugdale, was utterly shaken in pieces. In the following 
year, the famous Cross in the Church-yard, which had been for 
many ages the most noted and solemn place for the gravest Divines 
and greatest scholars to preach at, was pulled down to the ground : 
the stalls in the choir were taken away, as also part of the pavement 
torn up, and the monuments demolished or defaced. The scaf- 
folds erected for repair of the Church were given to the soldiers, 
who dug pits in several places in the fabric, for sawing up the 
timber ; even where some reverend Bishops and other persons of 
quality lay interred : and afterwards the body of the Church was 
frequently converted into a horse-quarter for soldiers, though a 
part of the choir was separated by a brick wall as a preaching 
place, the entrance to which was at the uppermost window on the 
north side eastwards. Vide Rennet's Register and Chronicle, 
page 549 : Dugdale's Hist of St. Paul's, edit, by Ellis, pages 109, 
110, 115. Zouch. 

Page ibid. Engraven very small on Heliotropium stones. 

These are commonly called a beautiful species of Jasper, but 
they are also defined as a sort of stone of the quartz family, sup- 
posed to be r combination of calcedony, with green earth. They 
have been long known as a gem, and are of a fine and strong green, 



462 NOTES. 



sometimes pure and simple, but more frequently with an admixture 
of blue in it. The Heliotrope is moderately transparent in thin 
pieces, and is always veined, clouded, and spotted with a blood red, 
from which it has been called Blood-stone by the jewellers. Zouch, 
Crabbe. An engraving from an impression of one of Dr. Donne's 
seals was given in the recent editions of the Complete Angler, 
printed uniformly with these Lives ; and a print of a seal itself, 
supposed to have been the identical one given to George Herbert, 
so particularly spoken of at page 55 of this work, will be found in 
the Gentleman's Magazine for 1807, vol. lxxvii, Part I. page 313, 
Plate ii. 

Page 53. Sir Henry Goodier — Lady Magdalen Herbert— Dr. 
Hall — Dr. Duppa. 

The first of these persons was the son and heir of Sir William 
Goodier, of Monkskirby, in Warwickshire, Knight, and was a Gen- 
tleman of the Privy Chamber to King James I. He once enjoyed, 
in succession, the Manor of Baginton, in the above County ; but not 
being so fortunate in his estate, by following the Court, he alienated 
the Lordship to his brother-in-law, Sir Henry Rainsford, of Clifford, 
in Gloucestershire. He married his cousin Frances, the daughter 
of Sir Henry Goodier, a great supporter of, and sufferer for, Mary 
Queen of Scotland ; and he left four daughters, of whom, Lucy, the 
eldest, was married to Sir Francis Nethersole. In the collection of 
Dr. Donne's Letters, published in 1651, are several addressed to 
this gentleman ; and Weever, in his Ancient Funerall. Monuments, 
page 533, gives this epitaph to his memory : 

" An ill yeare of a Goodyer vs bereft, 
Who, gon to God, much lacke of him here left j 
Full of good gifts, of body and of minde, 
Wise, comely, learned, eloquent, and kinde. 

Dugdale — Zouch. 

Lady Magdalen Herbert, was the daughter of Sir Richard New- 
port, and Margaret, youngest daughter and heir of Sir Thomas 
Bromley, one of the Privy Council, and Executor to Henry VIII. 
She was married to Richard Herbert Esq. and was the mother of the 
famous George Herbert, and Edward Lord Herbert, of Cherbury. 
She survived her husband, who died in 1597, and, says the latter 
of her sons, " gave rare testimonies of an incomparable piety to 
God, and love to her children : as being most assiduous and devout 
in her daily, both public and private, prayers ; and so careful to 
provide for her posterity, that though it were in her power to give 
her estate, which was very great, to whom she would, yet she con- 
tinued still unmarried, after she lived most virtuously and lovingly 
with her husband. She, after his death, erected a fair monument 
for him in Montgomery Church, brought up her children carefully, 



NOTES. 463 



and put them in good courses for making their fortunes ; and 
briefly was that woman Dr. Donne hath described her, in his Fune- 
ral Sermon of her printed." She died, July 11th, 1627, and was 
buried at Chelsea. Life of Lord Herbert. Collins. 

Dr. Joseph Hall, was an eminent Prelate, called the " English, 
or Christian Seneca, " and was born, July 1st, 1574, at Ashby-de- 
la-Zouch, in Leicestershire. He was entered of Emanuel College, 
Oxford, at the age of 15, and in 1595, became Fellow. He held 
the office of Chaplain to Henry Prince of Wales ; in 1616, he was 
made Dean of Worcester, and in 1618, was sent as a Member of 
the famous Synod of Dort. In 1624, he refused the Bishopric of 
Gloucester ; but in 1627, he accepted that of Exeter, whence he 
was translated to Norwich, in 1641. A few weeks afterwards, he 
was sent to the Tower with twelve other Prelates, for protesting 
against any Laws passed in Parliament during their forced absence 
from the House, and he was not released until June, 1642. He 
suffered much from the Puritans during the following year, since 
they plundered his house, despoiled his Cathedral, sequestered his 
estate, and reduced him to poverty, though he still continued to 
preach occasionally. He died at Higham, near Norwich, Sept. 8th, 
1656. Bishop Hall is considered as the first English Satirist, 
and one of his most famous works is the Virgidemiarum. Life in his 
Works. 

Dr. Bryan Duppawas born at Lewisham, March 10th, 1588, and 
was educated at Westminster, whence he was elected to Christ 
Church, Oxford, in 1605. In 1638, he was appointed Tutor to 
Prince Charles and theDuke of York, and about the same time was 
made Bishop of Chichester, whence he was translated to Salisbury 
in 1641. He attended Charles I. in the Isle of Wight, and is sup- 
posed to have assisted in writing the Eikoii Basilike. After re- 
maining with the King till his martyrdom, he lived in retirement 
at Richmond until the Restoration, when he was made Bishop of 
Winchester, and Lord Almoner. He died at Richmond, March 
26th, 1662 ; when he was visited by Charles II. who received his 
last benediction kneeling. Wood's Athen. Oxon. 

Page 55. To Mr. George Herbert. 

The two lines and a half of Elegiacs on the above page, and the 
Iambics on the ensuing, form the commencement of copies of Latin 
verses, the originals of the English poetry also printed in theHext : 
which in both instances is, apparently, Dr. Donne's. The verses 
begi nnin g " Quod Crux nequibat," &c. page 56, " are printed," 
says Mr. Archdeacon Wrangham, who has kindly assisted the pub- 
lisher in several other instances in this volume, " both in the 
Poems of Donne, 1669, 8vo. page 402, and of Herbert, see his 
Jacula Prudentum, 1651, l2mo.'page 182 ; but in the former vo- 
lume, they have not, like the other copy, the initials J. D. at- 
tached." The copy of Walton's Lives, 4th edit. 1675, from which 






464 NOTES. 

the present edition has been revised, was a presentation book from 
the author, and, originally, had an impression of one of Dr. Donne's 
seals affixed to the margin of the verses on page 56. 

Page 57. Prudentius. 

Clemens Aurelius Prudentius, a Christian Poet, born in Spain, 
in the year 348. He was brought up to the Law, of which he 
became a Judge ; but he was also a soldier, and enjoyed an office 
of rank in the Court of the Emperor Honorius. His verses were 
not written until he was advanced in years ; and Gyraldus observes, 
that they contain more of religious zeal, than of the beauties of 
poetry. Zouch. In the first edition of Donne's Life, the passages 
contained between " I fear no more," page 52, and the title of the 
Hymn, on page 57, together with the verses of that Hymn, were 
omitted ; but they were inserted in the second edition, with the ex- 
ception of the latter verses. The Scriptural allusion on page 58, is 
to Isaiah xxxviii, 20, as it appears in the margin of the original folio. 
The whole of the imperfect verses on page 56, will be found in 
Donne's Poems, page 387. 

Page 59. A laborious Treatise concerning Self Murder. 

The title of this Work, is given at No. 10 of the list of authorities, 
and it was first printed without a date, being published by the 
Author's son about 1644, and again in 1648. The original Manu- 
script is now in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, having been pre- 
sented to it in 1642, by Sir Edward Herbert, to whom Dr. Donne 
gave it with a dedicatory letter. The account of Dr. Donne's ar- 
rangement of his Sermons, was not inserted until the second edition 
of his Life. 
Page 59. Making his Will, &c. 

Dr. Donne's Will, is recorded in the Prerogative Court of Canter- 
bury, in the volume marked St. John, Art. 46 ; and it was proved 
before Sir Henry Marten, Knight, April 16th, 1631. 

Page 60. That model of gold, of the Synod ofDort. 

This famous national Convocation was made to examine into cer- 
tain doctrines of Arminius, which were disputed in Holland. It 
met at Dort, Nov. 13th, 1618, and the States General allowed 
100,000 francs for its expenses. The members of whom it was 
composed, were six persons from each of the United Provinces, 
twelve from North and South Holland, two from the country of 
Drent, and deputies sent b}' desire of the States from the King of 
England, the Elector Palatine, the Landgrave of Hesse, the States 
of Weteravia, the Republics and Cities of Geneva, Bremen, and 
Embden, and the Cantons of Zurich, Berne, Basle, and Schaaf- 
hausen. The doctrines which they discussed were those of Predes- 
tination, Redemption, Vocation, Conversion, and Perseverance ; in 
which all that was contrary to the tenets of Calvin was condemned, 
whilst Vorstius, and others who would not subscribe to the decrees 
of the Synod, were deprived of their Cures, and banished from the 



NOTES. 465 



United States. These decrees were publicly read in the Great 
Church of Dort, May 1st, 1619, when the Synod brake up ; but the 
States General ordered the Medal to be struck, of which a repre- 
sentation is given in the text, and of which they sent an impression 
in gold to every foreign Theologian and Councillor who had 
attended the meeting. The reverse of this Medal represents a 
mountain, on the summit of which is a temple, to which, some 
figures are ascending by a very steep path. The four winds, em- 
blematical of those who disturbed the tranquillity of the Church, 
are represented blowing upon the mountain ; and above the temple 
is the word Jehovah, in Hebrew characters. The legend is taken 
from Psalm cxxv, 1, and is, Erunt ut Mons Sion. cioiocxix. 
Bizot's Histoire Metallique, vol. i. p. 139. Van Loon's Hist. Metal- 
lique, vol. ii. p. 105. The words in Donne's own Will are, " that 
medall of gold," instead of " that model," as in the text. 

Page 60. Padre Paolo and Fulgentio. 

Paul Sarpi, commonly called Father Paul, was born at Venice, 
Aug. 14th, 1552, and was a member of the Order of Servites. Al- 
though lie is said to have been a pattern of humility, he was an 
excellent Divine, Mathematician, and Natural Philosopher ; and 
to him are attributed several discoveries in Anatomy. Being made 
Procurator General of his Order, he resided at Rome, leaving his 
property in the hands of a person who abused his trust, and who, to 
avoid detection, advised Paolo to remain in Rome for the sake of 
promotion. His answer was, .that he held the dignities of that 
Court in abomination ; and the letter containing the passage being 
betrayed to the Pope, Paolo was regarded as a heretic. His exer~ 
tions on behalf of Venice, caused him to be cited to Rome, and 
after the Pope and the Venetian States were reconciled, the defen- 
ders of the latter were marked as objects of vengeance, on which 
account, his life was attempted in 1607. His famous History of 
the Council of Trent was written in the seclusion to which he then 
retired, and he died Jan. 14th, 1622. Lifcby Dr. Johnson. 

M. Fulgentio, was a Minorite, and the friend and biographer of 
Father Paul, his Life of him being published in English, in 1651, 
8vo. He was celebrated for the dignity and freedom with which 
he preached the pure Word of God -, and Pope Paul V. said of his 
Discourses, " He has indeed some good Sermons, but bad ones 
withal : he stands too much upon Scripture, which is a book that if 
any man will keep close to, he will quite ruin the Catholic faith.'' 
Father Fulgentio had written in the Venetian controversy against 
the Pope, but was induced by the Nuncio to visit Rome, on pro- 
mise of safe conduct. He was at first received with favour, and 
even with festivity, but he was afterwards burned in the Field of 
Flora. Zovch. 

3 p 



i66 NOTE S. 

Page 64. At the foot of a private account. 
In all, excepting the first edition of Donne's Life, the Latin 
paragraphs, on this and the following page, have been erroneously 
printed as verse ; but in the folio of 1640, they are properly printed 
as prose, and, which greatly increases their interest, they have the 
dates of the years when they were written annexed to them in the 
margin. Thus, the sentence on page 64, was attached to Donne's 
Account for 1624-1625 ; the upper one on page 65, was to that for 
the year 1626 ; and the lower one, for 1628-29. It should be re- 
marked, that the commencement and conclusion of Dr. Donne's 
Will were not inserted until the second edition of his Life ; as well 
as the account on page 63, of his friend who had fallen into em- 
barrassed circumstances. 

Page 69. Dr. Donne had preached his own Funeral Sermon. 
The title of this Discourse is given in the preceding list of 
authorities, No. 7; and the piece itself, is also printed in the last 
collection of Donne's Sermons. Lond. 1661, Fol, page 397. At 
the commencement, is an Address to the Reader, signed Pv. pro- 
bably the initial of Richard Redmer, one of the publishers of the 
volume, beginning with the following words. " This Sermon was, 
by Sacred Authoritie, stiled the Author's owne Funeral Sermon. 
Most fitly : whether we respect the time or the matter. It was 
preached not many dayes before his death ; as if, hauing done this, 
there remained nothing for him to doe but to die : And the matter 
is of Death ; the occasion and subject of all Funerall Sermons." The 
text of this Discourse will be found in Psalm lxviii, 20, the latter 
part of the verse ; and another Scriptural reference on the present 
page is to Acts viii, 2. 

Page 73. Carved in one entire piece of marble. 
In the account-book of Nicholas Stone, already mentioned, are 
contained several particulars concerning Dr. Donne's monument. 
" In 1631," observes he, " I made a tombe for Dr. Donne, and 
sette it up in St. Paul's, London, for the which I was payed by 
Doctor Mountford the sum of 120L I took 60/. in plate, in part 
of payment," page 167. Another entry refers to a workman em- 
ployed by Stone upon the same effigy. " 1631, Humphrey Mayor 
finisht the statue for Dr. Donne's monument, 8l." Zouch. The 
figure was erected within the choir in the south aisle, against the 
south-east pier of the central tower of St. Paul's ; and it stood in 
a niche of black marble, which was surmounted by a square tablet, 
hung with garlands of fruit and leaves, having over it the arms of 
the Deanery, impaling Donne. Dugdale. 

The English translation of Dr. Donne's Latin Epitaph, given in 
the text, is nearly as follows; but much of the original point is lost 
by the attempt to render it into another language : 



NOTE S. 467 



JOHN DONNE/ 

Doctor of Divinity, 

after various studies,— pursued by him from his earliest years 

with assiduit}', and not without success, — 

entered into Holy Orders, 

under the influence and impulse of the Divine Spirit, 

and by the advice and exhortation of King James, 

in the year of his Saviour, 1614, and of his own age, 42. 

Having been invested with the Deanery of this Church, 

November 27th, 1621, 

he was stripped of it by Death, on the last day of March, 1631 : 

and here, though set in dust, he beholdeth 

Him whose name is the Rising. 

The concluding lines of this inscription, which has been obligingly 
translated by Mr. Archdeacon Wrangham, alludes to the position 
of Dr. Donne looking eastward, and to the famous passage in 
Zechariah vi, 12, " Behold the man whose name is the Branch," 
which the Septuagint Greek, and the vulgate Latin render " whose 
name is the East/' or " the Rising." Zouch. 

Page 73. I have seen one picture of him. 

An engraving from this portrait was attached to Donne's Poems, 
edit. 1650, 12mo. It consists of an oval, enclosed in a parallel- 
ogram, and represents Donne as a youth in a dark close dress, with 
a diamond cross pendant from his right ear, having a narrow linen ^ 
collar and flowing hair ; but not as Dr. Zouch erroneously states, in 
armour. On the left, at the lower side, is his hand resting on the 
handle of an ancient sword. In the left angle, at the top of the 
print, are the words " Anno Dni. 1591, ^Etatis suae 18 ;" and, on 
the opposite side, are his arms and the motto mentioned on page 
74, " Antes Mverto qvi Mvdado," supposed, " says Dr. Zouch, 
by a Spanish Author, " to have been written on the sand by a lady 
promising fidelity to her lover." Beneath the engraving, are 
Walton's verses on Donne's portrait, which will be given in a future 
volume, and a reduced copy of the engraving, will be found on page 
xvi of the present. 

Page 75. in his Book of Devotions. 

Vide No. 6, of the foregoing list, pages 586, 587, and Prayer 
23, of that volume. The Scriptures cited on this and the follow- 
ing page, are Genesis xlix., Job xiv. 14, Acts vii. 55. 

Page 77. as Alexander the Great, <%c. 

When Alexander crossed the Hellespont to visit the ruins of 
Ilium, he sacrificed to the heroes buried in the vicinity, and es- 
pecially to A chilles. Zouch. The passage cited by Walton will 
be found at page 729, of North's Translation of Plutarch, No. 19, 
of the preceding list. The whole of the passage, from the words, 
" I must here look back," page 71, dowu to " at his altar," page 



468 NOTE S. 

74, were not inserted until the second edition of Donne's Life, nor 
was the paragraph on page 77, containing the Epitaph ; and 
several less important variations in the text occur between that 
place and the end. 

Page 79. Dr. Corbet. 

Dr. Richard Corbet, an eminent Divine and Poet, born at 
Ewell, in Surrey, and educated at Westminster, whence he removed 
to Christ Church College, Oxford, in 1597-98. Upon entering into 
Holy Orders, he was made Chaplain in Ordinary to King James I.; 
and in July 1630, he was consecrated Bishop of Oxford. In 
April 1632, he was translated to the See of Norwich, and he died 
July 28th, 163.5. He was, according to Aubrey, a very convivial 
man, and in his younger years, one of the most celebrated wits of 
the University, and his volume of Poems is both a rare and meri- 
torious production. Biogr. Brit. 

Page 84. A Crown of 'Sacred Sonnets — a Litany. 

A Poem written by Dr. Donne, entitled, " La Corona," vide 
page 327, of his work already cited. It consists of seven holy 
sonnets, each of which is united with the other, by beginning 
with the last line of the preceding one ; whilst the Poem itself 
commences and concludes with the same line. The Litany will be 
found at page 354 of his Poems, and it was written during his 
distress and sickness before he took Orders, as he states in a Letter 
to Sir Henry Goodier. Zouch. The first folio is without any of 
the Elegies on the death of Dr. Donne ; and Walton had improved 
his own verses in the present work, very considerably from what 
they were when first printed with Donne's Poems. 

Page 89. Bocton-Hall, in the Parish of Bocton Malherbe. 

A Parish situate five miles westward from Charing, and about a 
mile and a half south of Lenham, almost in the very centre of the 
County. The present state of this once princely mansion, is ex- 
tremely ruinous, but some fragments of it's former splendour are 
yet remaining in the fine oaken staircase, and in the first storey of 
the house, where there is an immense apartment with carved 
wainscot walls coloured in partitions, having a ceiling also divided 
into pannel?, and painted in water-colours. This part of the build- 
ing is now inhabited by a farmer, but much of its ancient charac- 
ter is lost by the principal front being modernised, the large 
apartments divided, and the arched doorways, bay-windows, &c. 
being blocked up ; though a very fine specimen of the latter, 
formed of octangular panes, is yet perfect, and is shewn in the view 
on the above page. Several dates cut in stone, principally of the 
sixteenth century, are still remaining on the ruins. The Church 
of Bocton Malherbe, dedicated to St. Nicholas, stands nearly in 
the centre of the Parish ; on the eastern side of the Hall ; and 
within the rude dwarf wall of flints which surrounds the building 



NOTES. 469 

of Bocton Place. Hasted' 's Hist, of Kent, in which, at page 437, 
Vol. ii. will be found an account of the monuments mentioned in 
the text, and a history of the descent of this Manor in the family 
of Wotton. See also Harris's Hist, of Kent, page 48. 

Page 91. saith Holinshed. 

The passages alluded to, and abstracted by Walton, will be 
found at considerable length in No. 14, of the preceding list, pages 
1402, 1403. 

Page 92. Mr. William Lambarde, in his Perambulation of Kent. 

Vide No. 16 of the preceding list, to which there is an Epistle 
Dedicatory addressed " To the Right Worshipful and Vertuous 
M. Thomas Wotton, Esquier," probably containing the passage 
alluded to. William Lambarde, an eminent Lawyer and Antiquary, 
was the son of an Alderman ©f London, and was born Oct. 18th, 
1536. In 1556, he entered Lincoln's Inn, and studied the law 
under Lawrence Nowell, brother to the Dean of St. Paul's. In 
1597, he was made Keeper of the Rolls by Chancellor Egerton; 
and in 1600, Queen Elizabeth appointed him to be Keeper of the 
Records in the Tower. He died Aug. 19th, 1601, and his prin- 
cipal works are a collection and Latin Translation of the Saxon 
Laws, a Discourse of the English Courts of Justice, another on the 
Office of Justices, and the Perambulation of Kent. Chalmers. 
The passage in Camden, referred to en this page, will be found in 
No. 3 of the foregoing list of Authorities, p. 331, marginal letter B. 

Page 97. Baptista Guarini. 

An eminent Italian Poet, born at Ferrara in 1537, made Pro- 
fessor of Belles Lettres in 1563, and subsequently entertained by 
the Grand Duke Alphonso II., who employed him on several 
embassies. In 1585, he published his famous poem II Pastor 
Fido, to rival the writings of Tasso : and he died at Venice, Oct. 
7tb, 1612. Chalmers. 

Page 98. Albericus Gentilis. 

A very celebrated Italian Lawyer, born at Ancona in 1550, and 
educated at Perugia. About 1572, he left his own country with 
his father and brother, they being of the reformed religion, and 
whilst the two former settled in Germany, he came into England, 
and was admitted of New Inn Hall, Oxford, in 1580, through the 
patronage of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, then Chancellor 
of that University. In 1587, Queen Elizabeth made him Profes- 
sor of Civil Law, and it is supposed that he died at Oxford, about 
April 1611. His works are principally on Jurisprudence, written 
in Latin. Wood's Athen. Oxon. Edit. Bliss. 

Page 106. Theodore Beza — Isaac Casaubon. 

One of the most celebrated promoters of the Reformation, born 
at Vezelai, a small town of Nivernais, in France, June 24th, 1519. 
He was educated under the famous P.: former Melchior Wolmar, 



470 NOTES. 



from whom he derived his Protestant principles. He was not in 
Orders, though he held some Church preferments, but in 1548 he 
resigned them, retired to Geneva, married, and abjured Popery. 
In 1549, he was made Greek Professor at Lausanne, and in 1556, 
published his Translation of the New Testament, and his Defence 
of the burning of Servetus. He was a powerful assistant to Calvin, 
and after his death became head of the reformed party. He died 
Oct. 13th, 1605, having given great encouragement to the Puritans, 
though his letters to Whitgift evince a high regard for the Church 
of England . Chalmers. 

Isaac Casaubon, the best Grecian of his time, was born at Geneva, 
Feb. 18th, 1559, and at the age of twenty-three, became Greek 
Professor there. About 1597, he read Lectures on the Belles 
Lettres, at Geneva, and in 1600, at Paris ; when Henry IV. of 
France made him his Librarian, though he vainly endeavoured to 
draw him from the Protestant faith. In October 1610, he came 
to England with Sir Henry Wotton, and was received with great 
distinction by King James I., who preferred him in the Church, 
and gave him a pension. His writings are very numerous, and are 
Theological, Controversial, and Classical. He died July 1st, 1614, 
was buried in Westminster Abbey, where Bishop Morton erected 
him a monument. Zouch. Chalmers. 
Page 107. Mr. Henry Cuffe. 

An unfortunate wit and scholar, born at Hinton St. George, In 
Somersetshire, about 1560, and entered of Trinity College, Oxford, 
in 1576, from which he was expelled for some sarcasms on the 
Founder. His learning and abilities being very considerable, he 
was received into Merton College, and he was made Greek Pro- 
fessor j but his restless disposition induced him to follow the Earl 
of Essex to Cadiz. The ambitious schemes of that Nobleman 
ruined both ; for when he was condemned, his confession so much 
involved Cuffe, that he was brought to trial on the 5th, and hanged 
at Tyburn, on the 30th of March, 1601. Biogr. Brit. State Trials, 
Vol. I. 210. 

Page 110. Watson in his Quodlibets. 

William Watson, a secular Priest, who, in 1602, wrote the 
volume marked No. 30 in the foregoing list, which is composed with 
great acrimony ; each question being subdivided into ten articles. 
This person, however, was executed in 1603, for High Treason, 
together with William Clark, a Popish Priest, and George Brook, 
brother to Lord Cobham. Zouch. State Trials. 
Page 110. Ferdinand, the Great Duke of Florence, 
First of that name of the House of Medicis, was intended for 
the Church, and was created a Cardinal by Pius IV. in 1563. In 
1587, on the death of his elder brother, Francis-Maria, Duke of 
Tuscany, he resigned the purple, at the age of 52, and married 



NOTES. 471 

Catherine of Lorraine, daughter of the Duke Charles II. He died 
Feb. 22nd, 1608-9, having governed with great mildness, being 
a wise and domestic Prince. Sir Henry Wotton has delineated 
his character in the Reliquiae, Wottoniance, edit. 1651, page 359. 
Moreri. Zoueh. 

Page 115. Sir Albertus Morton. 

The son of George Morton, of Esture, in Kent, elected 
Scholar of King's College, Cambridge, in 1602. After his employ- 
ment under Sir H. Wotton, he was thrice agent in Savoy. Secre- 
tary to the Lady Elizabeth, in Heidelberg, and agent for the King 
to the Princes of the Union. He also became a Clerk of the 
Council, and was knighted in 1617'. He died in the Parish of 
St. Margaret, Westminster, about November 1625, having been 
elected a Burgess in Parliament for the University of Cambridge ; 
and he left a widow and one son. Wood's Athen. Oxon. 

William Bedel, who is mentioned in the same sentence, was an 
excellent Prelate, who was born at Black Notley, in Essex, and 
educated at Emanuel College, Cambridge, of which he became 
Fellow, in 1593. Much of his memoirs is given in the text, and 
he died Feb. 7th, 1641, in the house of an Irish Minister, whither 
the rebels had conveyed him. In his life by Bishop Burnet, is an 
interesting account of his Irish translation of the Scriptures. 

The verses addressed by Dr. Donne to Sir Henry Wotton, 
printed in the text, will be found at page 184 of his Poems ; but 
in the first edition of this Life, the whole of the passages from 
" And though his dear friend," page 115, down to " Sir Henry 
Wotton was received," page 117, are wanting. 

Page 118. Pope Clement the Eighth, 

Originally named Hippolito Aldobrandini, was born at Fano, iu 
1536, studied at Ferraraand Bologna, was made Cardinal by Sixtus 
V., and in January 1592, succeeded Innocent IX. as Pontiff. He 
converted Henry IV. of France, with many more to the Roman 
faith, and advanced Beliarmine, Baronius, and other learned men to 
be Cardinals. After a reign of piety, moderation, and wisdom, he 
died in March 1605 ; and was succeeded by Leo XI. who lived 
only twenty -nine da^s after. His successor was Camillo Borghese, 
commonly called Pope Paul V. who is mentioned on page 119. 
He was born at Rome, in 1552, and being an eminent Doctor 
of the Civil Law, he rose rapidly in the Papal favour, until he 
was created Cardinal by Clement VIII. His character and 
most important public acts are given in the text, and he died 
at Rome, in Jan. 1621. The passage contained between the 
words " Clement VIII. and that Republic," page 118, and 
" Pope Clement dying," page 119, are not in Walton's first edi- 
tion of this Life. 



472 NOTES. 



Page 122. History of the remarkable Council of Trent. 
Vide No. 18 in the preceding list of Authorities, in which 
will be found most of the historical matter related in the text. The 
work was published under the name of Pietro Polano Soave, an 
anagram formed out of that of the real author. Cardinals Bel- 
larmine, and Baronius, were the principal adversaries of Padre 
Paolo, in the Venetian controversy. Zouch. The passages on 
page 120, between the words " capable of absolution, " and 
" matters thus heightened," are wanting in the first edition of 
Wotton's Life. 

Page 123. Jasper Scioppius. 

A learned writer, born in Germany about 1576, who turned 
Romanist in 1599, on reading the Annals of Baronius. He re- 
commended the extirpation of Protestants to the Catholic Princes, 
and wrote with much rancour against King James, Scaliger, Casau- 
bon, &c. Towards the end of his life he pretended to prophecy, 
and sent some of his predictions to Cardinal Mazarine, who disre- 
garded them. He died in 1649, at Padua, and his works, which 
are very numerous, are no longer read. Moreri. 
Page 124. Velserus. 

Mark Velser, a Civilian, born at Augsburg in 1558, and educated 
under Muretus at Rome. On his return home he acquired great 
reputation at the bar, and became a Senator and Praetor. He 
died in 1614, was a great patron of learned men, and wrote several 
valuable works. Zouch. Sir Henry Wotton's Letter to him 
was written in Latin, and is printed in the Reliquiae Wottonianae. 
Dr. Donne's Will, menioned on this page, will be found in his 
Poems. 

Page 128. His dear mistress, the Queen of Bohemia. 
Princess Elizabeth, afterwards Queen of Bohemia. Whenever 
the name of this illustrious and unfortunate partaker of a throne 
occurs, the willing memory of the lover of old poetry, quickens tore- 
peat that beautiful and simple effusion upon her, which flowed from 
the pen of Sir Henry Wotton. What event occasioned these com- 
plimentary lines to be addressed by the gallant Courtier — though 
nearly thirty years the elder — to a Princess of her youth and beauty, 
seems unknown. It was, probably, after the Coronation in No- 
vember, 1619, as she was by " choice a Queen," but it may be 
conjectured it was before he received the command to distinguish 
her as his " Royal Mistress," as that command, of which he ex- 
pressed himself tenacious, is not used in entitling the poem ; now 
given from the earliest printed copy known. Michael Este, the 
composer, in " the sixt set of bookes wherein are Anthemes for 
Versus and Chorus, of 5 and 6 parts, apt for violes and voyces," 
1624, added, " in a vacant page," as the table describes, and 



NOTES. 473 

which was the back of the dedication leaf, consequently after the 
hook was printed : 

An Aire of a Canzo, composed in honour of the most 
illustrious Princesse, the Ladie Elizabeth, fyc. 

You meaner beauties of the night, 

That poorly satisfy our eyes, 
More by your number than your light, 

You common people of the skies ; 

What are you when the Moon shall rise? 

You Violets, which first appear, 

By those your purple mantles known, fr 

Much like proud Virgins of the year, 

As if the Spring were all your own ; 

What are you when the Rose is blown? 

You wandring chaunters of the wood, 

Who fill the eares with Nature's lays, 
Thinking your passions uuderstood. 

By weaker accents ; what's your praise 

When Philomel her voice doth raise ? 

TSo, when my Princesse shall be seen, 

In sweetuesse of her lookes and minde, 
By Virtue first, then choice, a Queen, 

Tell me if she were not design'd 

Th' eclipse and glory of her kind? 

It would be of little interest to add here all the variations of differ- 
ent Editors, but it is not immaterial to preserve the two additional 
Stanzas, given as the first and concluding one, by Dr. Wright in the 
Parnassus Biceps, 1656. 

Ye glorious trifles of the East 
Whose estimation fancies raise, 

Pearles, rubies, saphirs, and the rest 
Of precious gems ; what is your praise 
When as the diamond shewes his raise? [it's rays.] 

The Rose, the Violet, and the whole Spring 

May to her breath for sweetnesse run ; 
The Diamond's dark'ned in the ring, 

When she appears the moon's undone. 

As at the brightnesse of the Sun. 

3 Q 



474 NOTES. 

The preceding very curious and interesting particulars have 
been kindly communicated by Joseph Haslewood, Esq. 
Page 129. The Bishop of Spalato. 

Marcus Antonius de Dominis, Archbishop of Spalato, in Dal- 
matia, and the territory of Venice, was born at Arba, about 1561. 
He came to England with Mr. Bedell, in 1617, and, on professing 
himself a convert to the Protestant faith, was made Dean of 
Windsor. He was, however, persuaded by the Ambassador Gon- 
damar, to return to Rome, and his former religion: but though the 
promise of a Cardinal's hat was held out to him, he was seized by 
the Inquisition, and died in prison, in 1625. Zouch. 
Page 129- The inscription under his Arms. 
A painted shield, with the titles of the Ambassador written 
below it, called a Lodging Scutcheon, was commonly hung over the 
door of the house in which the Envoy resided ; a custom derived 
probably from the ancient times of chivalry, when the knights who 
were to appear in a tournament suspended their arms at the win- 
dows of their dwellings. It was also done to procure respect to the 
Ambassador's establishment, and the escutcheon was frequently 
left as a memorial of his Embassy. The inscription given in the 
text may be thus translated : 

" Henry Wotton, an Englishman of Kent, youngest Son of 
Thomas, the best of men ,* advanced to the Order of Knighthood 
by the most Serene James I. King of Great Britain, thrice Ambas- 
sador inordinary from the same, to the Republic of Venice ; and 
once to the States of the United Provinces, in the Council of 
Juliers. Twice Ambassador Extraordinary to Charles Emanuel, 
Duke of Savoy; once to the superior Princes of Germany, in the 
Assembly of Heilbrunen ; lastly, to the Archduke Leopold, Duke 
of Wirtemburg, and to the Emperor Ferdinand the Second, and his 
Imperial Cities of Strasburg and Ulm ; after all these employments, 
he hath learned this, that 

The Souls of wise Men grow better by resting." 

Page 130. Charitable Sir Julius Caesar. 
An eminent Civilian, descended from a very ancient Italian 
family, and born at Tottenham, in Middlesex, in 1557, his father 
being Physician to the Queens Mary and Elizabeth. He was 
educated at Magdalen Hall, Oxford ; but he took his D. C. L. 
degree at Paris. In 1563 he was made Master of the Requests, 
Judge of the Admiralty, and Master of St. Catherine's Hos- 
pital ; but King James I. Knighted him, made him Chancellor of 
the Exchequer, and Master of the Rolls. He died in 1636, 
Lodge. 



NOTES. 475 



Page 135. His innate pleasure of Angling. 

Vide Chapter I. page 41, of the Complete Angler. The para« 
graph beginning " He was a constant cherisher" was not in Walton's 
first edition of his Life, nor was that on page 136, commencing with 
the words " The next vesper." 

Page 137. Arminins. 

James Arminius, a Dutch Divine, born in 1560, at Oudewater, 
who studied at Leyden, Geneva, and Padua. Being employed to 
answer Theodore Beza on Predestination, he became a convert to 
the very tenets he was endeavouring to refute ; and the principal 
features of his persuasion were, a denial of Election, a belief in 
the free-will of man to attain salvation, and an idea that Christians 
may fall away, and be lost. The violent disputes in which these 
principles involved him, preyed upon his spirits, and brought on an 
illness, of which he died in 1609. Of the Rev. W. Perkins, there 
is a notice in the Complete Angler. The Scriptural reference on 
page 138, is probably to Jude, verse 10, or to 1. Timothy, verse 13 ; 
but the earlier translations of the Bible, were generally used by 
Walton. The verses to the memory of Sir Albertus Morton, were 
printed in the Reliquiae Wottonianse, first edit. p. 528. The pas- 
sages between the words " they must be laid aside," page 139, and 
** this is some account," page 147, are wanting in the first edition 
of the Life of Wotton. 

Page 142. James Wadsworth. 

Originally a Divine of the Church of England, but afterwards 
a pensioner of the Holy Inquisition, in Seville. He had been edu- 
cated with Mr. Bedel,, in Emanuel College, Cambridge, and went 
with Sir Charles Cornwallis in his Embassy to Spain. He was ap- 
pointed to teach the English tongue to the Infanta, when her mar- 
riage with Prince Charles was supposed to be concluded. Accord- 
ing to Wood, he left a son of the same name : but a very worthless 
character, whose works are sometimes confounded with the father's. 
Athen. Oxon. Winicood's Memorials, vol. ii. pp. 109, 131, 136. 
Wadsworth's Letters, referred to in the text, will be found at No. 
29 of the foregoing list. 

Page 146. Isaac Bargrave, 

Dean of Canterbury, born at Bridge, in Kent, in 1586, and edu- 
cated at Clare Hall, Cambridge. He was fined 1000L at the com- 
mencement of the Civil Wars, for being a member of the Convoca- 
tion ; and, in 1642, Colonel Sandys, whom he had saved from 
execution, threw him into the Fleet, which caused his death in 
January, 1643. He was the Author of three Sermons. Vide Todd's 
Deans of Canterbury. 

Page 149. A marble stone, plain, and not costly. 

This monument is erected in the Chapel of Eton College, and is 



476 



NOTES. 



formed of a slab of black marble, carved and ornamented, as in the 
followin g representation of it. 




The Will of Sir Henry Wotton is recorded in the Prerogative 
Court of Canterbury, in the volume marked Coventry, Article 8 : it 
was proved Jan. 18th, 1639-40, before Sir Henry Marten. 

Page 151. Mr. John Harrison. 

Elected Fellow of Eton College, October 28th, 1636. He was 
probably that " learned and eminent Divine," whom Anthony 
Wood mentions as the Author of " A Vindication of the Holy 
Scriptures, or the Manifestation of Jesus Christ, the true Messiah 
already come." Lond. 1656, 8vo. Athena, Oxon. Edit. Bliss, 
vol. iv. page 551 . Zouch. 

Page 152. Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, Knight. 

An eminent Statesman and Ambassador in the Court of Elizabeth, 
whose daughter was married by Sir Walter Raleigh. He was im- 
prisoned in the Tower, as a party in Wyatt's insurrection, but was 
acquitted for want of evidence ; and being greatly esteemed by 
Secretary Walsingham, he was employed in Embassies, both to 
France and Scotland. He died in February, 1571, being taken 
ill in the house of Treasurer Cecil, and not without suspicion of 
poison. Digges — Kennet — Collins. 



NOTES. 



477 



Sir Francis Windebank, mentioned on the same page, was the 
eldest son of Sir John Windebank, Knight, of Haines Hill, in Berk- 
shire, one of the Clerks of the Signet. He was educated at St. 
John's College, Oxford, and was Knighted, and made Secretary of 
State in 1632. He died in exile at Paris, in September, 1646, 
whither he had fled, on being accused of protecting Romish Priests 
and recusants. Wood's Fasti. 

Page 156. Learned Mr. John Hales, of Eton, 




commonly called " the Ever-Memorable," and u the Walking Li- 
brary," from his extensive erudition, was Greek Professor of the 
University of Oxford, and was born at Bath in the year 1584. He 
entered Corpus Christi College at the age of 15, whence he was 
elected a Fellow of Merton in 1606, Sir Henry Savile having dis- 
covered his prodigious talents. In 1613, he left Oxford, for a Fel- 
lowship at Eton ; and in 1618, he attended Sir Dudley Carleton, 
the Ambassador of James I. to the Synod of Dort, of the proceed- 
ings of which, he wrote a faithful and regular narrative in a series 
of Letters. In 1638, Archbishop Laud made him one of his 
Chaplains : and, in the following year, a Canon of Windsor ; but 
he suffered much from his attachment to the Royal cause, and was 
obliged to sell his collection of books at a low price, notwith- 
standing which, and the assistance of some friends, he died in 
extreme distress at Eton, on the 19th of May, 1656. Zouch. 
Athen. Oxon. Edit. Bliss. 



478 NOTES. 

The passage concerning Mr. Hales, is wholly omitted in the first 
edition of the Life of Wotton. 

Page 163. Dr. Spencer. 

A native of Suffolk, and, originally, one of the Clerks of Corpus 
Christi College, Oxford, of which he was elected Greek Reader, 
June 9th, 1578. Wood states of him, that, entering into Orders, 
he became a noted Preacher, Chaplain to James L, and a great 
admirer of Richard Hooker, and the famous Dr. John Reynolds, 
the latter of whom he succeeded as Master of his College. About 
four years after Hooker's death, he published his Five Books of 
Ecclesiastical Polity, with an excellent Preface; and dying on 
April 3rd, 1614, was buried at Oxford. Athen. Oxon. 

Page 164. Dr. Usher. 

James Usher, the illustrious Primate of Ireland, born in Dublin, 
Jan. 4th, 1580. He was the first Student of Trinity College, in 
1593, and, in 1620, he was made Bishop of Meath, whence he was 
translated to Armagh, in 1625. In the Irish Rebellion, he lost 
every thing but his library, which he conveyed to England, where 
he died in retirement, March 2 1 st, 1655-56. Parr. 

Page 169. Mr. John Jewel. 

Dr. John Jewel, was bora in the Parish of Berry Narber, in 
Devon, May 24th, 1522. He was educated at Merton, and Corpus 
Christi College, Oxford, and in the reign of Edward IV. he pub- 
licly professed the reformed religion. During the reign of Mary he 
remained abroad : but on the accession of Elizabeth, he returned, 
and was made Bishop of Salisbury, in 1559. In his controversy 
with the Roman Catholics, he published his famous " Apology for 
the Church of England," which was translated into several languages, 
although it was greatly opposed by the Papists. His fatigues 
abroad, and his incessant study, so much impaired his constitution, 
that he died, Sept. 23rd, 1571. Bohun. Zouch. 

Page 171. Dr. Cole — Dr. John Reynolds. 

Dr. William Cole, in 1599, exchanged with Dr. Reynolds the 
Presidentship of Corpus Christi College, for the Deanery of Lin- 
coln, which he did not long enjoy. He fled into Germany in the 
time of Queen Mary, and Anthony Wood names him as one of the 
exiles of Geneva engaged Avith Miles Coverdale, in a new Transla- 
tion of the Bible. Dr. Reynolds, Professor of Diviuity at Oxford, 
died May 21st, 1607. It has been said that he was brought up in 
the Romish faith, and that he was afterwards a strong supporter of 
the Puritans ; but Fuller supposes that it was only for the sake of 
giving satisfaction to some of the more tender consciences of the 
Non-conformists, since the virtue of Reynolds was almost pro- 
verbial. Zouch. 

Page 174. Edwin Sandys. 

One of the Translators of the Bible, born in 1519> and educated 



NOTES. 479 

at St. John's College, Cambridge, where he embraced the Protes- 
tant faith. He was committed to the Tower and Marshalsea for 
having preached in favour of Lady Jane Grey ; and on his release 
he left the kingdom, till the accession of Elizabeth, by whom he 
was made Bishop of Worcester. In 1570, he was translated to 
London, in 1576, to York, and in 1588, he died : his sermons 
are still admired, and a most virtuous character is given him by 
Fuller. His son, Sir Edwin Sandys, Prebendary of York, was 
born about 1561, and is well known as the author of the tract 
entitled, u Europae Speculum." He was knighted by King James, 
and died about 1629. Wood — Zouch. 

Page 176. Cardinal Poole — Dr. Thomas Jackson. 

Reginald Pole, a descendant from the blood-royal of England, 
and born at Stourton, in Staffordshire, in 1500. He was educated 
at the Monastery of Sheen, in Surrey, and Magdalen College, 
Oxford. He conducted himself with moderation towards the Pro- 
testants, and opposed the divorce of Henry VIII. On the mar- 
tyrdom of Cranmer, he became Archbishop of Canterbury, but he 
almost refused the Popedom on the death of Paul III. He died 
the daj T after Queen Mary, Nov. 18th, 1558. His name is 
omitted in the later editions of Hooker's Life. Dr. Jackson, was 
born at Wilton on the Wear, in Durham, in 1579, and was 
educated at Queen's, and Corpus Christi College, Oxford. He 
was made Prebendary of Winchester, in 1635, and Dean of Peter- 
borough, in 1638 ; he died in 1640, and his principal work is a 
Commentary on the Creed. Wood. 

Page 177. Dr. Herbert Westphaling — Sir Henry Savile. 

A man of great piety of life, and such gravity, that he was 
scarcely ever seen to laugh. He was a native of Westphalia, in 
Germany ; was Canon of Christ Church, Vice Chancellor of the 
University, and in 1585-86, was consecrated Bishop of Hereford. 
Zouch. Sir H. Savile was born at Over Bradley, near Halifax, in 
Yorkshire, Nov. 30th, 1547, and was entered of Merton College, 
Oxford. He was Greek and Mathematical Preceptor to Queen 
Elizabeth, and was one of the Translators of the Bible, under 
James I. who knighted him in 1604. He died Provost of Eton 
College, Feb. 19th, 1621-22. Biogr. Brit. 

Page 179. Mr. Camden — Fyncs Moryson. 

Vide No. 4 of the preceding list, for the edition of Camden's 
Annals quoted in the text. Fynes Moryson's very curious and 
interesting Travels, will be found at No. 17, and the place 
referred to is Part II. Book I. Chap. 2. page 84. The later 
editions of the Life of Hooker omit the account of his expulsion, 
beginning at, " In the year 1579," page 181, down to " I return 
to Mr. Hooker." 



480 NOTES. 

Page 183. St, Paul's Cross. 




A pulpit cross formed of timber, covered with lead, and mounted 
upon stone steps, which stood in the midst of the Church-yard of 
the Cathedral ; in which Sermons were preached by eminent 
Divines every Sunday in the forenoon, when the Court, the Ma- 
gistrates of the City, and a vast concourse of people usually at- 
tended. There is notice of its use so early as 1259, but it was 
not finished in the form above exhibited, until 1449, by Kemp, 
Bishop of London, and it was finally destroyed by order of Par- 
liament, in 1643. The Corporation of London ordained that all 
Ministers who came from a distance to preach at this Cross, were 
to have lodgings and provision for five days ; and the Bishop of 
London gave them notice of their place of residence. Stow. 
Pennant. 

Page 185. John Elmer, then Bishop of London. 

The excellent Aylmer, was born at Aylmer-Hall, in Norfolk, in 



NOTES. 481 



1521, and was Tutor to Lady Jane Grey, but he left England, 
during the reign of Mary, and went to Zurich. He returned on 
Elizabeth's accession, and was made Bishop in 1576, strictly 
governing the Puritans throughout his Prelacy. He died in 1594. 
Strype. 

Page 194. Coppinger and Hachet. 

Of these persons, together with the other religious reformers of 
their time, See Kennet's Hist, of England, vol. ii. page 253. 
Carte's ditto, iii. p. 637, and Strype's Annals, iii. p. 68. Zouch. 

Page 195. Mr. Bering. 

Edward Dering, a Puritan Divine, and a native of Kent, edu- 
cated at Christ College, Cambridge. He was suspended from his 
Lectureships on account of his nonconformity, but he is com- 
mended as a truly religious man, whose pure and virtuous life was 
followed by a happy death, in 1576. He wrote some Sermons, 
and a Defence of Bishop Jewel's Apology for the Church. Strype. 
Bishop Spotswood's work will be found at No. 24 of the preceding 
list, vide page 420, &c. of that volume. 

Page 201. the age and remisness of Bishop Grindal. 

Edmund Grindal, Archbishop of Canterbury, born in 1519, at 
Hinsingham, in Cumberland, and educated at Cambridge. He 
resided at Strasburg, till the accession of Elizabeth, who nominated 
him to the See of London, whence, in 1570, he was translated to 
York, and in 1575, to Canterbury. His indulgence to the Puri- 
tans procured him the Queen's displeasure, and for some time he 
was sequestered and confined to his house, but in 1582, he re- 
signed his office, and died July 6th, 1583. Dr. Whitgift was 
born in 1530, at Great Grimsby, in Lincolnshire, and died at 
Lambeth, Feb. 29th, 1603. Strype. Of Mr. Bradford, named on 
the preceding page, see Fox's Martyrs, and Fuller's Abel Redivi- 
vus. Concerning the Statute of Magna Charta, mentioned on 
page 204, See Blackstone's Great Charter, and Coke's Second 
Institute ; Collier's Ecclesiastical History, vol. i. pp. 185-227, 
229, and the Ancient Univers. Hist. vol. ii. p. 406, vol. xv. pp. 
564, 569, will also illustrate the circumstances referred to on page 
204. 

Page 209. Thomas Cartwright. 

A Puritan Divine, born in Hertfordshire, about 1535, and edu- 
cated at St. John's College, Cambridge. On his expulsion from 
the University, he went abroad, and became Minister to the 
English, at Antwerp and Middleburgh. Besides his controversial 
Tracts, he wrote a Commentary on the Proverbs, and a Harmony 
of the Gospels. Biogr. Brit. Walter Travers, who is mentioned 
on page 211, had been Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, to 
which Cartwright removed, and he was also his intimate friend, 
and joint pre?cher with him in Antwerp. When Travers came to 

3 » 



482 NOTES. 



England, he was made Chaplain to Lord Burghley, whose interest 
procured him to be Lecturer at the Temple. 

Page 211. Martin Mar-Prelate — Tom Nashe. 

In 1588, many satirical libels were published against the 
Bishops, written principally by a Society of men assuming the 
name of Martin Mar-Prelate ', and some of them were entitled, 
" Diotrephes," " the Minerals," " the Epistle to the Convocation- 
House," Have you any work for a Cooper ?" and " More work for 
a Cooper," referring to the Defence of the Church and Bishops 
of England, witten by Cowper, Bishop of Winchester. The real 
authors of these tracts, were John Perry, a Welchman, John 
Udall, and other Ministers. Zouch. Thomas Nashe was an 
English Satirical writer, born about 1564, at Lowestoffe, in Suffolk, 
and. educated at St. John's College, Cambridge. His tracts are 
both rare and curious ; but the titles given in the text belong all to 
one pamphlet, supposed by Gabriel Harvey, to have been written 
by John Lylly. He died in London in 1601. See Watt's Bibl. Brit. 

Page 214. as public an Answer. 

This will be found attached to the edition of the Ecclesiastical 
Polity, No. 15 of the preceding list, together with the two Ser- 
mons referred to on pages 214-221. Vide the volume, pp. 461- 
463, 470, 473, 518-520, 543-547. 

Page 224. And in this examination, &c. 

In some of the later editions of the Life of Hooker, this para- 
graph is thus altered — " And in this examination, I have not 
only satisfied myself, but have begun a treatise in which I intend 
the satisfaction of others, by a demonstration of the reasonableness 
of our Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity ; and therein laid a hopeful 
foundation for the Church's peace ; and so as not to provoke 
your adversary, Mr. Cartwright, nor Mr. Travers, whom I take be 
mine — but not mine enemy — God knows this to be my meaning. 
To which end I have searched many books, and spent many 
thoughtful hours ; and I hope not in vain, for I write to reasonable 
men. But my Lord, I shall never be able to finish what I have 
begun, unless I be removed into some quiet country parsonage, 
where I may see God's blessings spring out of my mother earth, 
and eat mine own bread in peace and privacy. A place where I 
may, without disturbance, meditate my approaching mortality, 
and that great account, which all flesh must at the last great day 
give to the God of all Spirits. This is my design ; and as those 
are the designs of my heart, so they shall, by God's assistance, 
be the constant endeavours ojf the uncertain remainder of my life. 
And therefore, if your Grace," &c. 

Page 227. learned Dr. Stapleton. 

It is ascertained by Bishop King's letter to Walton, that it was 
Dr. Stapleton who introduced the works of Hooker to the Pope 



NOTES. 483 



Thomas Stapleton was a Romish Divine, born in 1535, at Henfield, 
in Sussex, and educated at Winchester, and New College, Oxford 5 
but he left England on account of his religion, and became Pro- 
fessor of Divinity at Douay. He died at Louvain, in 1598, and 
his works form four volumes in folio. Wood. 

Page 229. Dr. Earle. 

Dr. John Earle, Author of the " Microcosmography, or a piece of 
the World, discovered in Essays and Characters," was born at York, 
in 1601 ; was educated at Oxford, and was Tutor to Prince Charles. 
In the Civil Wars, he lost both his property and preferments, and 
attended the King abroad as his Chaplain. In 1662, this very 
amiable man was consecrated Bishop of Worcester ; and in 1665, 
he attended the Court, when it removed to Oxford from the Plague. 
He died there, Nov. 17th, in the same year. Wood. His transla- 
tion of Hooker's Polity, was never printed. Zouch. 

Page 231. Dr. Hadrian Saravia. 

A Protestant Divine, and Professor of Divinity at Leyden, born 
at Artois in 1531, came to England in 1587. He was the bosom 
friend of Whitgift, and, having been master of the Free-Grammar 
School of Southampton, produced some of the most eminent men of 
his time. Dr. Saravia was one of the Translators of King James's 
Bible, and died in 1613. Wood — Zouch. His Tracts have been 
printed, both in Latin and English. Vide Watt's Bib. Brit. 

The Parish Register of Bishop's Bourne shews that the " grate- 
ful Clerk," mentioned on pages 233-235, was Sampson Horton, 
who" was buried the 9th of May, 1648, an aged man, who had bin 
Clarke to this parish, by his own relation, threescore years." Zouch. 

Page 238. A slander which this age calls trepanning. 

See an account of this practice in the Biographia Britannica, 
under the Life of Eusebius Andrews, Note A. Some particulars 
of the conspiracy against Hooker are in Prince's Worthies of Devon, 
p. 396. Vide also Fuller's Church History, Book IX. Zouch. 

Page 246. Richard Hooker's Will, 

Is recorded in the Archbishop's Consistory Court at Canterbury ; 
and from this interesting document the fac-simile of his signature, 
given in the Frontispiece to this volume, has been procured 
through the kindness of J. H. Markland, Esq. and Mr. Thomas 
Starr, of Canterbury. It was probably the last time that Hooker 
ever wrote his name, for his Will describes him as " sicke in 
bodye ;" and the letters are but imperfectly formed, probably from 
his extreme debility at the time of signature. A Note in Arch- 
bishop Laud's copy of the Ecclesiastical Polity, shews that Hooker 
diedNov. 2d, 1600. The volume of" Clavi Trabales," referred to 
on page 251, will be found at No. 2 of the foregoing list, and it con- 
sists of a collection of Tracts formed by Archbishop Usher, and writ- 
ten by himself, Mr. Hooker, Bishop Andrews,Dr. Saravia, &c, Zouch, 



484 NOTE & 



Page 253. Mr. Fabian Phillips. 

A Barrister of eminence, particularly noted for his loyalty, born 
at Prestbury, in Gloucestershire, in 1601. He died in 1690 ; and 
was the Author of several excellent Law Tracts, as well as one 
asserting that Charles I. was a martyr for his people. Wood. 

Page 254. George Cranmer's Letter. 

This admirable dissertation originally appeared in 1642, en- 
titled " Concerning the New Church Discipline ; an excellent 
Letter written by Mr. George Cranmer, to Mr. R. H. ;" and Wood 
observes, that Walton informed him that Mr. Cranmer had written 
many other things beside this Letter, which were kept private, to 
the great loss of the public. The initials T. C. on page 256, stand 
for Thomas Cartwright, the rival of Hooker ; and Dr. Bancroft's 
book, referred to on page 259, was entitled " A Survey of the pre- 
tended Holy Discipline," to t which is prefixed, " A Sermon 
preached against the Puritans at St. Paul's Cross, Feb. 9th, 1588- 
89," from I John iv. 1. Of the Sects called Brownists and Barrow- 
ists, and their founders, see Alexander Ross's " View of all Reli- 
gions," Strype's " Life of Whitgift," Book iv. Ch. i. Fuller's 
" Church History," Cent. IX, p. 148, Mosheim's " Ecclesiastical 
History," vol. iv. page 98, Paule's " Life of Whitgift," page 58, 
and Kennet's " History of England," vol. ii.page 571. Zouch. 

Page 273. Montgomery Castle. 

A fortress first erected by Roger de Montgomery, Earl of 
Shrewsbury, under William I. to secure his conquests in Wales, 
though it has been twice partly destroyed by the Welsh. It 
stands near the Severn, on a gentle ascent, having a fair prospect 
over {'. e plain beneath. After its destruction by Llewellyn the 
Great, it became the property of the Lords Herbert, with whom it 
remained until it was finally reduced to ruins by the Civil Wars, 
and an order of the Parliament, June 11th, 1649. Camden — 
Heylin — Zoiich. For an account of the various members of the 
Herbert family, mentioned in the text, vide " The Life of Edward 
Lord Herbert of Cherbury," Lond. 1778, 4to. and Collins's Peer- 
age, vol. v. Zouch. The verses which usually precede Walton's 
Life of George Herbert, will be found printed in the " Waltoniana." 

Page 277. Dr. Neville. 

A Divine at once eminent for his splendid birth, and his extraor- 
dinary piety and learning, who was educated at Pembroke Hall, 
Cambridge. He was made Dean of Canterbury in 1597, and on 
the death of Elizabeth, Archbishop Whitgift sent him to Scotland, 
to King James, to offer him the allegiance of the Clergy, and learn 
his pleasure concerning them. He died in 1615. Todd. 

Page 285. Sir Robert Naunton — Sir Francis Nethersole. 

The first of these gentlemen was born in Suffolk, in 1563, and 
was descended from a very ancient family in that County. He 



NOTES. 485 

was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, and, on January 8th, 
1617-18, was made Secretary of State ; King James I. having 
been previously so well pleased with his eloquence and learning, as 
to appoint him Master of the Court of Wards. Sir Robert 
Naunton was the Author of the interesting " Fragmenta Regalia, 
or Observations on Queen Elizabeth and her Favourites." He died 
on Good-Friday, 1633-34. 

Sir Francis Nethersole was a native of Kent, Ambassador to the 
Princes of the Union, and Secretary to the Queen of Bohemia ; 
and lie was equally remarkable for his doings and sufferings in her 
behalf. Zouch. 

Page 286. His book called Basilicon Boron, 

Or " His Majesty's Instructions to his dearest Son, Henry the 
Prince," 1599. It is considered as the best, of the King's Works, and 
is praised by Lord Bacon and Camden, as being excellently 
written ; whilst Archbishop Spotswood states, that it more contri- 
buted to procure James the English throne, than all the tracts 
which were written in his favour. Andrew Melville procured this 
work in Manuscript, and circulated it in Scotland, which pro- 
duced a libel against it, and first caused its publication. This cele- 
brated person, who is introduced on page 287, was born Aug. 1, 
1547, and was educated at the University of St. Andrews, which 
he left with an eminent character for learning, and travelled and 
studied through France to Geneva. He was elected principal 
Master of Glasgow College in 1574, when he began to enforce the 
Presbyterian System ; and after much opposition, and two years 
imprisonment, he died Professor of Divinity to the Protestants of 
Sedan, in 1621. Zouch. The first edition of Herbert's Life has 
about this part a long passage concerning Melville, afterwards omit- 
ted, which will be reprinted in the " Waltoniana." 

Page 288. The Lady Arabella, 

Daughter of Charles Stuart, Earl of Lenox, the younger brother 
of Henry, Earl of Darnley, father of King James I. She was born 
at Hampstead in 1577, and received a very liberal education j 
added to which, she possessed a large estate, and, the English suc- 
cession being doubtful, she was supposed to be a probable heir to 
the crown. She incurred the displeasure of James, by marrying 
Mr. William Seymour, grandson of the Earl of Hertford, for which 
she was sent to the Tower ; and although she had made her escape 
thence, she was overtaken, brought back, and died there in 1615. 
The verses addressed to heron page 288, have been translated : 

For one like cause, our chains around us twine, 
Thine altar beauteous is, and sacred mine: 

alluding to the name Arabella, which signifies a fair altar. Vide 



4S6 NOTES. 



" Lodge's, Illustrious Personages," DTsraeli's " Curiosities of Li- 
terature," 2nd Series, vol. i. page 256. 

Page 304. His friend Robert Creighton. 

A native of Scotland, educated at Westminster School and Tri- 
nity College, Cambridge, afterwards Greek Professor of the Uni- 
versity. During the Civil Wars, he suffered extremely for the 
Royal Cause, and was an exile with Charles II. who gave him the 
Deanery of Wells on the Restoration, and in 1670, he was made 
Bishop of Bath and Wells. He died in 1672. Zouch. Dr. John 
Davenant, mentioned on page 307, was, in 1609, Lady Margaret's 
Professor of Divinity at Cambridge, and in 1621, Bishop of Salis- 
bury. He was appointed by James I. to attend the Synod of Dort, 
and his endeavours to effect an union between the reformed Churches 
were zealous and sincere. He died in 1641. Zouch — Biog. Brit. 

Page 308. The Parsonage of Bemerton. 

The Publisher is indebted for the View of this interesting spot 
given in the text, to the kindness of the Venerable Archdeacon 
Coxe ; who has also furnished the following information concerning 
it. The north-east part of the house, which appears in the draw- 
ing, consists of a pantry on the lower floor, with the same mullion 
windows as in the time of Herbert, about ten feet by six ; next to 
which is a small kind of housekeepers' room of the same size, in 
which a similar window, once looking to the north, is now closed 
up and made a fire-place : but another on the eastern side is still 
remaining. The room above is a bed-chamber, about eleven feet 
by seventeen, in which two mullion windows to the north are closed 
up, and a modern one is opened to the east. The uppermost room 
is of the same size ; but all the other parts of the house have been 
altered. The house and grounds of this Rectory were in the same 
state as in the time of Herbert, when the present incumbent was 
presented to the living ; the principal part of the former was single, 
with small windows, and the river Neder flowed at the bottom of 
the garden. Bemerton is two miles west by north of Salisbury, 
and the Church is dedicated to St. Andrew. 

Page 314. Dr. Humphrey Henchman, 

At the time mentioned in the text, was Prebendary of Salisbury, 
of which See he became Bishop in 1660, and in 1663 he was re- 
moved to London. He was much esteemed by King Charles II. whose 
escape at the battle of Worcester he was very instrumental in pro- 
moting ; but when the declaration for liberty of conscience was 
published in 1671-72, this Prelate was not afraid of the King's dis- 
pleasure, but injoined his Clergy to preach against Popery. Zouch. 

Page 328. Dr. Lake. 

Dr. Arthur Lake, a native of Southampton, educated at Win- 
chester School, and New College Oxford ; he was made Dean of 
Worcester in 1608, and Bishop of Bath and Wells in 1616. He 



NOTES. 487 

died in 1626, being one of the best Preachers of his time, and 
Fuller observes of him, that his piety may justly be exemplary to 
all of his order. Zouch. 

Page 331. The Church of Fulston. 

George Herbert, says the Venerable Archdeacon Coxe, in his 
valuable communications to the Publisher of this volume, is gene- 
rally called Rector of Bemerton, because the Glebe-house, in 
which he resided, is in that Parish : but he should more properly 
be called Rector of Fugglestonc, or Foulston St. Peter's, cum 
Bemerton annexed ; as the Rectory comprises the Parishes of Fug- 
glestone, Quidhampton, and Bemerton. The View of Foulston 
Church, given in the text, exhibits the west-end, and is probably as 
it appeared in the time of Herbert. The Parish is situate one mile 
to the east of Wilton. See Sir R. C. Hoare's " History of Wilts." 

Page 333. Mr. Nicholas Farrer. 

To the Memoirs given in the text of this eminent person, it may 
be added, that he was born in 1591 ; that in 1624, he was a 
Member of Parliament, and that he died Dec. 2nd, 1637, being 
buried in the Chapel yard without any inscription over him. A. 
farther account of his Convent, and its dispersion in the Civil 
Wars, may be found in Hacket's " Life of Archbishop Williams," 
pp. 50-53. Supplement to the " Biographia Britannica," Article, 
Mapletoft. For Juan Valdesso, see the Complete Angler j his 
work is No. 28 of the preceding list. 

Page 346. Mr. Herbert, in his own Chapel under the Altar. 

The Parish Register of Bemerton states, that " Mr. George 
Herbert, Esq. Parson of Fuggleston and Bemerton, was buried the 
3rd day of March, 1632 ;" but although his letter to Mr. Farrer is 
dated Sept. 29th in the same year, it must be remembered that the 
year then commenced on March 25th. Zouch. 

The verses on the preceding page are altered from a Dirge, 
written by Shirley, attached to his " Contention of Ajax and Ulysses 
for the Armour of Achilles." Lond. 1659, 8vo. See Percy's 
" Reliques of English Poetry," vol. i. p. 284. 

Page 351. Mr. Chillingioorth — Dr. Hammond. 

William Chillingworth, born at Oxford in 1602 ; and educated 
at Trinity College. He was proverbially celebrated there for clear 
and acute reasoning ; but he so much involved himself in the Romish 
Controversy with John Fisher, a Jesuit, as to become a convert, 
and enter the College at Douay. His re-conversion was brought 
about by his god-father, Archbishop Laud, in 1631, when he re- 
turned to England ; and in 1638, he wrote his famous work called 
" The Religion of Protestants a Safe Way to Salvation." Fol. He 
was zealously attached to the Royal cause, and served at the Siege 
of Gloucester ; but being taken prisoner, he was carried to the 
Bishop's Palace at Chichester, on account of his illness, and, dying 



488 NOTES. 



there, Jan. 30th, 1644, was buried in the Cathedral, without any 
other ceremony than that of his book being cast into the grave by 
the hand of a fanatic. 

Dr Henry Hammond was born at Chertsey, in Surrey, Aug. 18th, 
1605 ; and was educated at Eton, and Magdalen College, Oxford. 
His loyalty caused him to be deprived of his preferments during the 
Civil Wars, and at the Restoration he was designed for Bishop of 
Worcester, bnt died before consecration, April 25th, 1660. His 
principal works are, his " Practical Catechism," and " A Para- 
phrase and Annotations on the New Testament." Biog. Brit. 

Page 359. Dr. Kilbie. 

Dr, Richard Kilbie, born at Ratcliffe, in Leicestershire, and a 
great benefactor to his College, since he restored the neglected 
library, added eight new repositories for books, and gave to it many 
excellent volumes. He became Rector in 1590, and in 1610 he 
was appointed the King's Hebrew Professor. He died in 1620. 
Zouch. Vide No. 20 of the list of Authorities for Sanderson's Logic. 

Page 364. Dr. Robert Abbot, 

Brother of George Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury, born at 
Guildford in 1590, and promoted to the See of Salisbury in 
1615, as a reward for his Lectures against Suarez and Bellarmine, 
in defence of the King's supreme power. On his way to Sarum, 
he made an oration to the University, and his friends parted from 
him with tears. He died March 2nd, 1617. Zouch. 

Page 365. Dr. Prideaux. 

Dr. John Prideaux, born at Harford, in Devonshire, in 1578* 
and Rector of Exeter College in 1612, when he acquired so much 
fame in the government of it, that several eminent foreigners 
placed themselves under his care. He was made King's Professor 
in Divinity, in 1615, but was reduced to great poverty in the Civil 
Wars, and he died July 20th, 1650. Zouch. 

Page 371. John King, then Bishop of London. 

A native of Wornall, in Buckinghamshire, born about 1559, and 
educated at Westminster, Chaplain to Queen Elizabeth. In 1605 
he was made Dean of Christ Church, and in 1611, Bishop of 
London; he died in 1621, when it was reported that he had 
joined the Church of Rome, which was contradicted by his son in 
a Sermon at St. Paul's Cross. Wood. The Archbishop of York, 
referred to on page 373, was Dr. Tobias Matthew, who died 
March 29th, 1628, aged 83. Zouch. 

Page 379. learned and pious Archbishop Laud. 

Dr. William Laud, born at Reading, Oct. 7 th, 1573, and edu- 
cated there, and at St. John's College, Oxford. In 1616 he wan 
made Dean of Gloucester, in 1621 Bishop of St. David's, and ir 
1622 he had a conference with Fisher the Jesuit, of which the 
printed account evinces how opposed he was to Popery j but his 



NOTES. 489 

Arminian tenets gave offence to the Calvinists. In 1626 he was 
translated to the See of Bath and Wells, in 1628 to London, and 
in 1633 to Canterhury. His zeal for the establishment of the 
Liturgy in Scotland produced him numerous enemies, by whose 
means he was imprisoned in the Tower for three years, and be- 
headed Jan. 10th, 1644-45. Biogr. Brit. 

Page 387. Dr. Zouch. 

Dr. Richard Zouch, the first Civilian of his times, was born at 
Ansley, in Wiltshire, in 1590, and was educated at Winchester 
School, and New College, Oxford. In 1620, he was Regius Pro- 
fessor of Civil Law, and he also held the office of Warden of the 
Cinque Ports, and Judge of the Admiralty Court. He died in 
1660, was the author of many Latin works, and Dr. Zouch has 
compiled an interesting memoir of him in his Notes to these Lives. 

Page 419. Mr. Robert Boyle. 

This amiable Philosopher, the glory of his age and nation, was 
born Jan. 25th, 1626-27, at Lismore, in the province of Munster, 
in Ireland. He was not only a scholar and a gentleman, but a 
christian of the most exalted piety and charity, and a very eminent 
Natural Philosopher. He died December 30th, 1691. Dr. Birch's 
Life. Dr. Thomas Barlow, who is mentioned on the samejpage, was 
born in 1607, at Orton, in Westmoreland, was made Bishop of Lin- 
coln, in 1675, and died at Buckden, in 1691. His character, which 
appears to have been somewhat vacillating, will be found in the 
Biographia Britannica; but his theological learning has never been 
excelled. In the later editions of the Life of Dr. Sanderson, there 
is a paragraph inserted after the words *.* of this number," on page 
420, which will be printed in the " Waltoniana." 

Page 423. the place appointed — was the Savoy in the Strand. 

At the Bishop of London's lodgings there ; and for a farther 
account of this assembly, see Dr. Nicholl's " Preface to his Com- 
ment on the Common Prayer," " Kennet's Register," and Dr. 
Manfs edition of the Prayer Book, 4to. with his Authorities. 
Richard Baxter, also mentioned on this page, was born at Rowton, 
in Shropshire, in 1615, and was a Chaplain in the Parliamentary 
Army, though he was a defender of Monarchy. He refused the 
Bishopric of Hereford, and died in 1691. Dr. Peter Gunning, 
mentioned on the following page, was a loyalist Divine, who suf- 
fered considerably for the Royal cause, and who died Bishop of 
Ely, in 1684. Dr. John Pearson, was the author of the famous 
" Exposition of the Creed ;" in 1661, he was made Lady Margaret's 
Professor of Divinity, at Cambridge, and he died Bishop of Ches- 
ter, in 1686, aged 74. Biogr. Brit. 

Page 426. William, Archbishop of Canterbury. 

Dr. William Sancroft, born at Freshingfield, in Suffolk, in 1661, 
and educated at Emanuel College, Cambridge, where he was de- 

3 s 



490 



NOTES. 



prived of his Fellowship in 1649, for refusing to take the Engage- 
ment. He was made Archbishop in 1677, and in 1688, he was 
one of the seven Prelates sent to the Tower by James II. He was 
a man of the greatest integrity and innocence, and at the Revolu- 
tion he refused taking the Oaths to the new government, for 
which, being suspended and deprived, he died in retirement Nov. 
24th, 1693. Biogr. Brit. For an account of Buckden Palace, 
see Hacket's " Life of Bishop Williams." 

Page 430. his last Will. 

Bishop Sanderson's Will is recorded in the Prerogative Court 
of Canterbury, in the volume called Juxon, Article 37. After his 
death, it was industriously reported that he repented of his writing 
against the Presbyterians, and would not suffer a Church Minister 
to pray by him, which is refuted by the narrative of Mr. Pullin's 
giving him the Sacrament, &c. on pp. 434-436. There is in the 
later editions, some variation in the concluding sentence of this 
memoir, which will be given with others — now unnoticed, in the 
work before announced — of which the great and unexpected 
extent of the present volume has not permitted the insertion. 





GENERAL INDEX. 



Abbot, Dr. Robert, Bishop of Salisbury, 364, 488. 

Album, sentence written in one, by Sir H. Wotton, 123. 

Alvey, Richard, decease of, 189, 190. 

Ambassadors, Sir H. Wotton's advice to, 139. 

Ambrose, St. biographical notice of, 456. 

Andrews, Dr. Launcelot, Bishop of Winchester, Portrait of, 289. 
His friendship for Herbert, ibid. 290. Biographical notice of 
454. 

Angling, Sir Henry Wotton's love for, 135, 475. 

Arminius, James, Sir H. Wotton's account of him, 137. His dis- 
pute with Perkins, 138. Biographical notice of, 475. 

Atheists of the seventeenth Century, 197, 262, 263. 

Augusta, incident to Sir Henry Wotton at, 122. His Apology 
addressed to the Chiefs of, 124. 

Austin, St. various references to his Confessions, 26, 33, 34, 52, 
100, 172, 218, 443, 453, 456, 461. Biographical notice of, 
456. 

Bacon, Sir Francis, Lord Verulam, his esteem for Herbert, 290. 

Barfoote, Dr. John, his expulsiou of Dr. Reynolds, &c, 183. 

Bargrave, Dr. Isaac, notices of, 146, 475. 

Barlow, Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Lincoln, 419, 489. 

Barnard, Dr. Nicholas, his mention of the alterations in Hooker's 

■ Ecclesiastical Polity, 252. 



492 GENERAL INDEX. 



Basilicon Boron, notices of the, 286, 485. 

Barrowists, their origin and tenets, 259. 

Baxter, Rev. Richard, 423, 490. 

Bedel, Rev. William, goes Chaplain to Sir Henry Wotton, on his 

Embassy, 115, 1 42. A Correspondent between the Venetian 

States and King James I., 121, and assists in forwarding the 

History of the Council of Trent, 122. His mild controversy 

with Wadsworth, 143. Made Bishop of Kilmore, 144. His 

holy life and character, 145. 
Bellarmine, Cardinal Robert, 7, biographical notice of, 448. 
Bemerton, Rectory of, 306, 312, 486. View of the Church and 

Parsonage of, 308. 
Beza, Theodore, biographical account of, 470. 
Biathanatos, references to, and account of, 59, 444, 464. 
Bishops, puritanic proceedings and outcry against the, 194, 257. 

Characters selected for in the Primitive Churches, 420. 
Bishops Bourne, Rectory of, 225. Presented to Hooker, 226. 

View of the Parsonage at, 230. His exemplary life there, 232- 

237. View of the Church there, 268. 
Bocton Hall and Church, Kent, View and account of, 89, 468. Sir 

H. Wotton's annual visit to, 155. 
Boothby Pannel, Lincoln, View of the Parsonage at, 355. 
Boscum, Rectory.of, 224, 225. 
Bostock, Mr. Robert, 331. 
Boyle, Hon. Robert, 419, 489. 
Brightman, Thomas, 393. 

Brook, Christopher and Samuel, 11. Biographical notice of, 450. 
Buckden, View of the Bishop of Lincoln's Palace at, 427. 

Caesar, Sir Julius, his Portrait, 130. Biographical notice of, 474. 

Cales Voyage, 7. Account of the, 449. 

Camden, William, Clarencieux King of Arms, various references to 
his Britannia, 93, 443. To his Annals, 179, 200, 229, 246, 443. 

Carey, Dr. Valentine, biographical notice of him, 460. 

Cartwright, Thomas, 209, 210, 481. 

Casaubon, Isaac, biographical notice of, 470. 

Chalmers, Mr. Alexander, his conjecture concerning Dr. Donne's 
verses, 454. 

Charity, various instances of Dr. Donne's, 61, 62, 63. Ditto of 
Herbert's, 327, 329, 330. 

Charke, William, destroys the remaining writings of Hooker, 249. 

Charles I., King of England, Sir H. Wottor/s letter to, 143. En- 
gages him to write a History of England, 146. His visit 
to Oxford University, 366. His value for Hooker's Works, 
229. His reply to Lord Say concerning them, 253. Presents 
the living of Bemerton to George Herbert, 306. Makes Dr. 



GENERAL INDEX. 493 

Sanderson bis Chaplain, 379. His love for his preaching and 
Divinity, 380. His confessions to him in the Isle of Wight, 
388. 

Charles II. King of England, his injunctions to the Clergy of Ca- 
thedrals, 427. 

Chidley, John, verses by, 36. Biographical notice of, 456. 

Chillingwortb, William, notice of, 487. 

Church Discipline, George Cranmer's excellent letter on, 2-55. 

Church-lands, attempts to take away, 201. Whitgift's defence of, 
202. Protected by Magna Charta, 204, 205. 

Churchman, John, 183. Mrs., 184-186. 

Clarke, Rev. William, notices of, 406, 407. 

Clavi Trabales, 16-61. References to, 442. 

Clement VIII. Pope, moderation of in the Venetian dispute, 
117, 118. His praise of Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, 228. 
Biographical account of, 471. 

Clergy, their privations and virtue during the Civil Wars, 13. 
Ancient virtues and humility of, 32. Increase of in Italy, 117. 
Privileges claimed by the Italian, 118. Injuries and oppres- 
sion of by the Presbyterians, 257,261. How to prevent the 
contempt of the, 327. Imprisonment of the, during the Civil 
Wars, 393. 

Cole, Dr. William, notice of, 478. 

Common Prayer, Dr. Sanderson's alteration of the, 397, 398. Re- 
vision of the, in 1661,425, 490. 

Coppinger, Edmund, 194, 257, 481. 

Corbet, Dr. Richard, Bishop of Oxford, his Elegy on Dr. Donne, 
79. Biographical notice of, 468. 

Covenanters, their origin and proceedings, 382, 383. Their dif- 
ference from the Independents, 395. 

Cowley, Abraham, his Elegy on Sir H. Wotton, 159. 

Cowper, Sir William, his Epitaph on R. Hooker, 245. 

Cranmer, George, account of him, 179. His friendship with 
Hooker, 180. His visit to ditto, 187. Discovers a conspiracy 
against Hooker, 237. His letter to Hooker, 254-268, 484. 

William, notice of him and his family, 163, 164, 175. 

Creighton, Robert, 304, 486. 

Cuffe, Mr. Henry, notices of, 107, 108, 470. 

Curie, Dr. Walter, 306, 381. 

Danvers, family of, their kindness to G. Herbert, 304. 

, Jane, her happy marriage with George Herbert, 305. 

Innate humility and piety of, 311. Her charity, 313, 329. 

Account of, after Herbert's death, 346. 
Davenant, Dr. John, Bishop of Salisbury, his institution of George 

Herbert, 307. 



494 GENERAL INDEX. 



Dering, Edward, 195,481. 

Devonshire, eminent characters born in, 165. 

Devotions, Dr. Donne's Book of, extracts from, and references to, 
32, 49, 75, 444, 456, 461, 467. 

Donato, Leonardo, Duke of Venice, his wise and determined con- 
duct, 117. 

Donne, Dr. John, Introduction to his Life, 1. Life of, 3-86. 
Birth and descent of, 3. His education and abilities, 4. Reli- 
gious enquiries of, 5. His travels, 7. Entertained by Lord 
Ellesmere, 8. Attachment and marriage of, ibid. 9. Dis- 
charged from his service, 10. Imprisonment of, 11. En- 
largement and subsequent difficulties, ib.-13. Dr. Morton's 
friendship for him, 15. Is solicited to take holy Orders, 16, 
30, 32. His objections to so doing, 17, 32, 33. Residence 
■with Sir F. Wolly, and reconciliation with Sir G. More, 18. 
Removal to Mitcham, 19. Extracts from his letters, ibid. 20, 
21, 22, 66, 452. Removes to Drury House, 22.^4ttends Sir 
R.Druryto France, 23. His Vision there, 24. His verses 
addressed to his wife, 28. Secular employment solicited for, 29. 
King James's regard for, ibid. Answers the objections to the 
Oath of Allegiance, 30. Prepares himself for the Ministry, 32. 
takes Orders, 34. His diffidence in preaching, 35. Verses in 
praise of his preaching, 36. Made King's Chaplain, and D.D. 
at Cambridge, 37, 457. Death of his Wife, 38, 457. First 
Sermon afterward, 39, 458. Becomes Divinity Lecturer at 
Lincoln's Inn, 40, 458. Attends the Earl of Doncaster to Bo- 
hemia, 41, 458, 459. Returns, and is made Dean of St. Paul's, 
&c, 43, 44. Under the King's displeasure, 45. Clears himself, 
46. His sickness, ibid. His noble refusal of Church property, 
then offered, 47. His recovery, and last illness, 49, 66. Cha- 
racter of, and of his Poetry, 50, 451, 454. Hymns by, 51, 52, 
56, 57. His Seals of the Anchor and Christ, 53, 290, 461,464. 
Verses sent with to G. Herbert, 55, 463. Reply to ditto, 56, 
.291,463. Method of composing his Sermons, &c. 58. Trea- 
tise of Biathanatos, 59, 444, 464. Makes his Will, 59-62. 
His charities, 62, 63,466. Filial affection of, 63. Extracts from 
his private accounts, 64, 65, 466. His last Lent Sermon, 67, 68, 
69, 466. Joy at his recent Life, and at Death, 69, 70, 71. At- 
tempt of Dr. Fox to cure him, 71. Mortuary Monument of 
him executed, and carved in marble, 72, 73, 466. His Epitaph 
and Portraits, 73, 467. Mental and bodily change, 74. His 
happy death and burial, 75, 76. Honours paid to his tomb, 77. 
Private subscription sent for his Monument, 78. His features, 
eulogy, and character, ibid. Poetical Epitaphs on, 79-86. 
Becomes acquainted with Sir H. Wotton, 105. Verses by, 
addressed to Sir H. Wotton, 115. Singular Will of his alluded 



GENERAL INDEX. 495 

to, 124. His admiration, verses, and letter addressed to Lady 

Magdalen Herbert, 279-281. His Funeral Sermon for ditto, 

282. Editions of his life, 440. 
Dorset, Edward and Richard Sackville, Earls of, 44. Biographical 

notices of, 460. 
Dort, Synod of, representation of the Medal struck by the, 60. 

Notice of the Assembly, 464. 
Drayton Beauchamp Church and Parsonage, Views of, 165, 187. 

Hooker presented to the living of, 187. Anecdote of his life 

there, ibid. View of Hooker's Study at, 439. 
Dreams, of Dean Wotton, 100. Causes and use of, 101, 102. Of 

Thomas Wotton, 103. 
Drury, Sir Robert, his kindness to Mr. Donne and family, 22, 24, 

25. Biographical notice of him, &c, 453. 
Duncon, Mr. Edmund, his visits to Herbert, 332, 339. 
Duppa, Dr. Bryan, Bishop of Salisbury, 53. Biographical notice 

of, 463. 

Earle,Dr. John, Bishop of Salisbury, 229, 483. 

Ecclesiastical Polity, various particulars concerning Hooker's work 
on, 222-229, 249-254. 

Ecclesiastical State of England, its overthrow endeavoured, 195, 
257. 

Elizabeth, Queen of England, intrigues to destroy her, 109. Dis- 
position of the people of England at her death, 191. Her fa- 
vours to Archbishop Whitgift, 201. His bold address to her, 
202, 206-208. 

Queen of Bohemia, her marriage, 41. Portrait of, 42. 

Sir H. Wotton's Embassy in behalf of, 127. Biographical 
notice of, 458. Wotton's verses addressed to, 472, 473. 

Ellesmere, Thomas Lord, receives Dr. Donne as his Secretary, 8. 
His discharge of him, 10, 12. Chancellor of Oxford, 366. 
Biographical account of him, &c, 449. 

Elmer, John, Bishop of London, an advocate for Hooker, 185. 
Biographical account of, 480. 

Episcopacy, destruction of in England, 394. 

Epitaphs, on Dr. Donne, 73, 77,~79-86. On Sir H. Wotton, 159. 
on R. Hooker, 245. Tor Bishop Sanderson, 433. 

Essex, Robert Devereux, Earl of, makes Sir H. Wotton his Secre- 
tary, 107. Rebellion and execution of, ibid. 108. 

Eton College, View of the entrance to, 87. Sir Henry Wotton 
made Provost of, 132. His employments and virtuous life 
there, 133-135. School of adorned by him, 135. And the 
Scholars encouraged, 136. Sir H. Wotton's reflections there, 
156. View of the east end of, 159. 

Excommunication, decision of the Council of Trent concerning, 
118. 



496 GENERAL INDEX. 



Eye, excellence of it's composition, 97. Benefit and blessing of 
the, 98. 

Farrer, Nicholas, his subscription to Herbert's Church, 297. Bio- 
giaphical account of, 333, 487. His extraordinary devotion, 
334-337. His acquaintance with Herbert, and translation of 
Valdesso's Considerations, 337, 338. Herbert's Letter to him, 
concerning tbat work, 347. Portrait of him, 348. 

Feasts of the Church, their order and excellence, 322-323. 

Ferdinand II. Emperor of Germany, Sir H. Wotton's Embassy to, 
127-129. 

Ferdinand de' Medicis, Duke of Florence, account of, 471. 

Flecamore, Christopher, sentence written in his Album by Sir H. 
Wotton, 123, 

Fox, Dr. various particulars concerning, 71, 72, 78. 

Fulgentio, M. 60. Biographical notice of, 465. 

Fuller, Dr. Thomas, his Church History referred to, 444, 447, 448. 

Fulman, Mr. his notice of Hooker's death, 247, in margin. 

Fulston Church, Wilts, exterior view of, 331. Notice of, 487. 

Gattaker, Rev. Thomas, 40. Account of him, 458. 

Gentilis, Albericus, various particulars concerning, 98, 104, 469. 

Goodier, Sir Henry, 53. Biographical account of, 462. 

Grindal, Edmund, Archbishop of Canterbury, account of, 481. 

Guarini, Battista, 97, 469. 

Gunning, Dr. Peter, Bishop of Ely, 424, 490. 

Hacket, William, 194, 257, 481. 

Hales, John, of Eton, Sir H. Wotton's address to, 156. Portrait 
and account of, 477. 

Hall, Dr. Joseph, Bishop of Norwich, 53. Notice of, 463. 

Hammond, Dr. Henry, Portrait of, 400. Various particulars 
concerning, 401, 402, 403, 488. 

Harrison, John, notice of, 476. 

Harsnett, Dr. Samuel, Bishop of Chichester, 37. Account of 
him, 457. 

Hay, James, Earl of Doncaster, 41. Biographical notice of, 459. 

Henchman, Dr. Humphrey, Bishop of London, 314, 315, 486. 

Henry VIII. King of England, his seizure of Church-lands, &c. 
205, 206. 

Herbert, George, character of his Temple, 54. Latin and 
English verses by, addressed to Dr. Donne, 56. Life of, 269- 
347. Introduction to ditto, 27 J, 272. His birth and family 
seat, 273. Family of, 274-276. His education, 276. Entered 
Cambridge, 277. Account of his mother, 277-280. His 
studies at Cambridge, 282. His Letter and Poem to Lady 



GENERAL INDEX. 497 



M. Herbert, 283. Virtue and piety of, 284. University 
character and titles of, 285. His conduct as Orator, 286, 288, 
289. Replies to Melvin's Satires, 287. Verses on Dr. Donne's 
Seal, 291,463. His hopes of Court preferment, 291. His health 
impaired by study, 292. His verses on affliction, ibid. 293. 
Death of his Court friends, 294. Determines to take Orders, 
ibid. 303. Made Deacon, &c. 295. Repairs the Church of 
Layton Ecclesia, 296,-297. His Letter to his mother in her 
sickness, 298. His own illness, 302. His resignation, reco- 
very, and his person described, 303. Courtship and marriage 
of, 304, 305. Receives the Rectory of Bemerton, 306. He- 
sitates at taking Orders, ibid. Convinced by Bishop Laud, 
and is ordained, 307. Holiness of his life, 308. His induc- 
tion, ibid. His delight in the title of Priest, 310. Address 
to his wife thereon, 311. Repairs his Church and Parsonage, 
312-314. Instances of his humility and goodness, 312,313. 
His christian conduct, 314. His Country Parson, 315, 444. 
His Sermons, 316-324. Pious life of him and his parishioners, 
325. His love for Music, 326. Anecdotes of, ibid. 327-330. 
Is seized with a consumption, 330. Mr. Duncon's visits to, 
332, 339. His acquaintance with Nicholas Farrer, 337. 
Sacred Poems, sent to, 340. Their publication, 341, 444. 
His reflections on dying, 342. Hymn by, 343. Dying con- 
duct of, ibid, 344, 345. His Letter to Nicholas Farrer, 347. 
Editions of his Life, 440. Burial of, 487. 

Herbert, Lady Magdalen, various particulars concerning, 274, 
277, 280, 281, 282, 283, 297, 298, 462. 

— — —- family of, eulogium on, 2?3. Biographical notices of va- 
rious members of the, 274-276. 

Holinshed, Raphael, references to his Chronicle, 91, 94, 444, 468. 

Hooker, Richard, Life of, 161-268. Introduction to ditto, 
163, 164. His birth and character of his childhood, 166. 
His Schoolmaster's advice, 167. Success of his intercession 
with J. Hooker, 168. Is patronised and sent to Oxford by 
ditto, and Bishop Jewel, 170, 171. Filial affection of, 172. 
His visit to Bishop Jewel, ibid. Is made Tutor to Edwin 
Sandys, 174. His learning and piety at Oxford, 175. Is ad- 
mitted on the College Foundation, 176. Graduates there, 
177. And becomes Fellow, 178. His pupils, ibid. 180. 
His subsequent course of study, ibid. 181. Becomes Hebrew 
Lecturer, 181. Is expelled his College, 182. Re-admitted, 
takes Orders, and is appointed to preach at St. Paul's, 183. 
His journey to London, and Sermon, ibid. 184. Unhappy 
marriage of, 185, 186. His residence at Drayton Beauchamp, 
187. Recommended to be Master of the Temple, 189. Re- 
ceives the office, 190, 211. His religious disputes with Travers, 

3 T 



498 GENERAL INDEX. 



213. His defence of his doctrine of Faith, 214. And Justi- 
fication, 215-217. His charitable belief concerning Papists, 
218, 219. His mildness in argument, 220, 221. His con- 
troversial writings published, and his Ecclesiastical Polity com- 
menced, 221, 222, 489. Dr. Spencer's eulogium on, 223. Is 
presented to the Rectory of Boscum, 224, 225. Publication 
of his first four books of Polity, 225. Receives the Rectory 
of Bishop's Bourne, and his holy life there, 226, 232-237. 
Preface to his books of Church Polity, 225, 226. Eulogies on 
them, 227-229. View of his Parsonage at Bourne, 230. 
His friendship with Dr. Saravia, 231, 232, His preaching, 
235. Conspiracy against, 238-240. Occasion of his death, 
241. Conduct in his sickness, 242. His death, 244, 246, 

247, in margin. Conclusion, 245. Epitaph on, ibid. Ap- 
pendix to his Life, 246-254. His Will and family, 247, 248. 
Authenticity of the last three books of Polity considered, 

248. His remaining writings destroyed, 249, 252. G. Cran- 
mer's Letter to, 254-268. Editions of his Life, 448. 

Hooker, Joan, various particulars concerning, 185, 187, 248, 249. 

John, educates his nephew, 168. Introduces him to 

Bishop Jewel, 170. 

Horton, Sampson, Parish-Clerk of Bishop's Bourne, various par- 
ticulars concerning, 233-235, 483. 

Hymns 51, 57, 343. 

Jackson, Dr. Thomas, 176, 479. 

James I. King of England, various actions of, and particulars con- 
cerning, 29-32, 35, 37, 41, 43-46, 110-114, 121, 122, 130, 
196, 228, 253, 286, 288, 289, 366. 

Jewel, John, Bishop of Salisbury, various particulars concerning, 
169-173, 478. Portrait of, 170. 

Independents, their difference from the Covenanters, 395. 

Inscription under Sir Henry Wotton's Lodging Scutcheons, 129, 
474. 

Island Voyage, referred to, 7. Account of, 449. 

Justification, Hooker's Argument on the nature of, 217, 218, 219. 

Kent, Henry Grey, Earl of, 44. Notice of, 460. 
Kilbie, Dr. Richard, 359, 360, 363, 364, 488. 
King, Dr. Henry, Bishop of Chichester, various particulars con- 
cerning, 34, 47, 48, 75, 78, 80. 
, Dr. John, Bishop of London, Portrait of, 371. Account of, 



Lake Dr. Arthur, Bishop of Bath and Wells, notices of, 328, 365, 
487. 



GENERAL INDEX. 499 



Lambard, William, his praise of Thomas Wotton, 92, 445. Ac- 
count of, 469. 

Laud, William, Archbishop of Canterbury, various notices of, 307, 
393, 404, 405, 489. 

Layton Ecclesia, Church of, View of, 273. Particulars concerning, 
295, 296. 

Leicester, Robert Dudley, Earl of, intrigues of, 195, 202, 209. 

Liturgy, Herbert's Sermons explanatory of the, 316-324. San- 
derson's praise and defence of the, 411, 412. 

Lothesley, or Loseley Hall, View of, 3. Notice of, 450. 

Martin Marprelate, 211, 257,485. 

Melville, or Melvin, Andrew, 287, 288. Account of, 485. 

Mirandula, Giovanni Picus, 4. Biographical notice of, 448. 

Montague, Dr. James, Bishop of Bath and Wells, 29. Biogra- 
phical account of, 454. 

Montgomery Castle, View of, 271. Notices of, 273, 484. 

More, Sir George, various particulars of, 8, 10, 12, 18, 43, 44. 
Biographical account of, 449. 

, Sir Thomas, Dr. Donne's descent from, 4, 447. 

, Anne, various particulars relating to, 8, 9, 11, 23, 24, 25, 27, 

28, 38, 39, 451, 454, 457, 458. 

Morley, Dr. George, Bishop of Winchester, Portrait of, xvii. De- 
dications to, ibid. 351. ' Various particulars of, 390-392, 446. 

Morton, Sir Albert, various particulars of, 115, 139, 140, 471. 

, Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Durham, Portrait, and various 

notices of, 14-17, 471. 

Moryson, Fynes, 179, 445. 

Music, Herbert's praise of, 326. 

Nash, Thomas, his Pamphlets, 211, 212. Account of, 482. 
Naunton, Sir Robert, 285, 485. 
Nethersole, Sir Francis, 285, 485. 
Neville, Dr. Thomas, c z77 y 484. 

Nonconformists, various notices of the, 192-195, 422. 
Northumberland, Henry Percy, Earl of, 10. Biographical account 
of, 450. 

Oxford, Reasons against the Covenant drawn up at, 387. Expul- 
sion and persecution of the Members of the University of, 90, 
389-392. 

Paolo, Padre, various particulars concerning, 120-122, 144, 445, 
465, 472. 

Papists, liberality of Sir H. Wotton to, 136. Strengthened by 
the Presbyterian dissentions, 264, Uncharitable belief of the 
Puritans, concerning, 211. Hooker's defence of the, 218, 219. 



500 GENERAL INDEX. 



Paul, Cathedral Church of St., Donne's Monumental Effigy in, 73, 

467, His burial there, 76, 77. Ancient Views of, xix, 86. 
Destruction of by the Puritans, 53, 461. 

Paul's Cross, 183, 480. 

Paul V., Pope, various particulars concerning, 119,121, 122, 471. 

Pearson, Dr. John, Bishop of Chester, 424, 490. 

Perkins, Rev. William, his dispute with Arminius, 137, 138. Por- 
trait of, iii. 

Pey, Nicholas, 132, 133, 140. 

Phillips, Fabian, 253, 484. 

Plutarch, various extracts from and references to, 2, 26, 77, 445, 447, 
453 467. 

Poetry,' various pieces of, 28, 36, 50, 51, 54, 55, 56, 57, 77, 79- 
86, 115, 140, 159, 245, 279, 281, 283, 292, 311, 314, 343, 

468, 473. 

Pole, Cardinal Reginald, 176, 479. 

Portraits of Dr. Donne, xvi. xix. 

Prayers, excellence of the Church of England, 412. 

Preaching, dangerous manner of, in the Civil Wars, 413. 

Predestination, Controversies concerning, 401. 

Presbyterians, various particulars concerning the, 192-197, 211, 

255, 256, 258-266. 
Prideaux, Dr. John, 365, 488. 

Promises of God, Hooker's Argument on their certainty, 214. 
Prudentius Clemens, Aurelius, 57, 464. 
Psalms, use of the, in the English Liturgy, 317, 318. Excellence 

of the, 395, 412, 436. Sanderson's repetition of the, 437. 
Pseudo-Martyr, references to, and extracts from the, 6, 30, 443, 

448. 

Quinquarticular Controversy, account of the, 401. 

Rastall, William, 4, 447. 

Retirement, Wotton's and Hooker's desire for, 134, 223, 482. 

Reynolds, Dr. John, 171, 176, 182, 478. 

Rudde, Dr. Anthony, Dean of Gloucester, 448. 

Sacrament, benefit of its administration, 415. 

Sancroft, Dr. William, Archbishop of Canterbury, 427, 490. 

Sanderson, Dr. Robert — Bishop of Lincoln, charge of concern- 
ing his Writings, 253. Life of, 349-438. Dedication, 351. 
Preface, 352-354. Birth of, 355. Family of, &c. 356, 357. 
His education, 358, 359. His degrees, &c. at Oxford, 361, 
362, 364, 367, 369-371. His Logic Lectures, 363, 445. His 
acquaintance with Dr. Sheldon, 369, 370. Resigns his Fel- 



GENERAL INDEX. 501 

lowship, 375, and marries, 374. Instances of his piety and 
charity, 375-378. Excellence of his Sermons, 379. His Con- 
vocation employments and Answers to Calvin, 380, 381, 387. 
Is made DD. 381. Employed to reform the Prayer Book, 

384, 425, 426. Called to the Assembly of Divines, ibid. 
Made Professor of Divinity, and excellence of his Lectures, 

385. Attends the King in the Isle of Wight, 388, 389. 
Forced to quit his College, 390. Persecuted at Boothby 
Pannell, 397. Prayer used by in altering the Liturgy, 398. 
Instances of his patience, 399, 407, 408. His singular me- 
mory, 400, 401, 417. His debate in the Quinquarticular 
Controversy, 403. Prefaces to his Sermons referred to, 405, 
410, 445. Made prisoner by the Parliament, ibid. 407. Cases 
of Conscience written by, 406-409. Walton's interview with, 
411-415. Character of his person and manners, 416-418, 
437. Mr. Boyle's friendship to, 419. Recommended to a 
Bishopric, 421. Made Bishop of Lincoln, 422. His conduct 
as such, 426-428. His principal studies, 429. Extracts from 
his Will, 430-433. His burial and monument, 432-434. 
Conduct of in his last sickness, 434-437. Conclusion, 438. 
Editions of his life, 440. 

Sandys, Dr. Edwin, Archbishop of York, various notices of, J 74, 
188, 189, 478. 

Sir Edwin, various notices of, 174, 178, 180, 187, 237, 

479. 

Saravia, Dr. Adrian, various notices of, 231, 232, 241, 244, 483. 

Savile, Sir Henry, Portrait, and notices of, 177, 178, 479. 

Scioppius, Jasper, 123, 472. 

Sermons, notices of Dr. Donne's, 35, 39, 444. Notices and cha- 
racter of Mr. Hooker's, 214-219, 235. Of Mr. Herbert's, 
316-324. Of Bishop Sanderson's, 379. 

Sheldon, Dr. Gilbert, Archbishop of Canterbury, various notices 
concerning, 369, 370, 417, 421. 

Somerset, Bobert Carr, Earl of, 31, 455. 

Spalato, Archbishop of, 129, 474. 

Spencer, Dr. John, various notices concerning, 223, 249-251, 478. 

Spotswood, Dr. Johu, Archbishop of St. Andrews, 195, 446. 

Stapleton, Dr. Thomas, 227, 283. 

Stuart, Lady Arabella, 288, 485. 

Temple, View of the Hall in the, 161. Death of the Master of 
the, 189. The Office given to R. Hooker, 190. Extracts from 
the Records of the, ibid. 

Temple, The, notices of Mr. Herbert's Poems so called, 340, 341. 

Theobald's Palace, interior View of, 31. 

Throgmorton, Sir Nicholas, 476. 



502 GENERAL INDEX. 

Travers, Rev. Walter, various particulars concerning, 185, 212- 

216, 220, 222, 446, 481. 
Trent, the Council of, 119, 122. 

Valdesso, Signor John, 338, 339, 446. 

Velserus, Marcus, 124, 472. 

Venice, various particulars relating to, 117-122. View of the 

Rial to and City of, 114. 
Vietta, Signor, 108, 110. 

Usher, Dr. James, Archbishop of Armagh, 478. 

Wadsworth, Rev. James, various notices of, 142, 143, 446, 475. 
Walton, Izaak, his Apology for writing the life of Dr. Donne, 1. 
Elegy by, on his death, 383. His reason for writing the life of 
Sir H. Wotton, 94. Ditto for that of Hooker, 163. His Con- 
nection with the Cranmer family, ibid. Other eminent friends 
of, 164. His praise of the life of Herbert, 308. His interview 
with Bishop Sanderson during the Civil Wars, 411-415. Pro- 
gressive improvements in the various editions of his Lives, 439. 
Order of their publication, 440. Character of his Studies, 441, 
442. List of his Authorities, 443. 
Watson, William, 110, 446, 471. 
Westphaling, Dr. Herbert, 479. 
White, Dr. Thomas, 44, 460. 

Whitgift, John, Archbishop of Canterbury, various particulars con- 
cerning, 198-210, 213, 248, 255. Portrait of, 199. 
Will, various particulars concerning Dr. Donne's, 60, 61, 62, 464. 
Sir H. Wotton's 151-155, 476. R. Hooker's, 246, 247, 483. 
Dr. Sanderson's, 430-432, 490. 
Windebank, Sir Francis, account of, 477. 
Wolly, Sir Francis, 18, 19. Biographical notice of, 451. 
Woodnot, Mr. Arthur, 297, 298, 309, 341, 343, 344. 
Wotton, Sir Henry, his purpose of writing Dr. Donne's life, 1. 
Life of, 87-160. Birth-place of, 89. His Lectures at Oxford, 
97, 98. His friendship with Dr. Donne, 104, 105. His 
travels, 106. Becomes Secretary to the Earl of Essex, 107, 
but goes abroad at the commencement of his rebellion, ibid. 
108. His residence in Italy, 108, 109. Sent on a secret Em- 
bassy to England, 110, 111. Returns to Florence, 112. His 
reception by King James L, 113 Sent Ambassador to Venice, 
114. Corresponds between the Republic and the King, 121. 
Sentence of in an Album, 123. Loses, and recovers the King's 
favour, 124. His interest with the Dukes of Venice, 125. 
Prisoners liberated by, 126. Sent Ambassador to Germany, 
127-129. Made Prevost of Eton, 132. His conduct there, 



GENERAL INDEX. 



503 



j 33-135. His liberal sentiments in religion-, 136, 137, 138. 
Advice of to an Ambassador, 139. His Sorrow for Sir A. Morton, 
139, 140. His Verses to his memory, 140. His recommen- 
datory letter of Mr. Bedel, 141. His proposed Histories, 146, 

147. His Monument, 149, 150, 476. Extracts from his Will, 

148, 151-155. Last visit to^ Winchester College, 156. His 
declining health, 156-158. His decease, and Conclusion, 158, 
159. Cowley's Elegy on, 159. His character of Archbishop 
Whitgift, 199. Editions of his life, 440. His Verses to the 
Queen of Bohemia, 472, 473. 

Wotton, family of, biographical notices, &c. of several of its mem- 
bers, 90, 92, 93, 95, 99, 100-104, 112, 113. 

— the very Rev. Nicholas, Dean of Canterbury and York, 

various particulars concerning, 93, 100, 101, 104. Portrait of, 
99. 

Wyatt, Sir Thomas, his rebellion and execution, 101, 102. 

Zouch, Dr. Richard, assists in drawing up the Oxford Reasons 
against the Covenant, 387. Excellence of his Elcmenta Juris- 
prudentia;, 429. Account of, 489. 




i 




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